A Different Kind of Magic
by McGonagal'sCat
Summary: Voldemort has been vanquished but not without many casualties, including Hogwarts itself. With the castle brought to its knees, will it ever recover? Will those who fought for it ever find a lasting love & peace? A story about ancient magic, love, loss and healing. AU. HG/SS, multiple other pairings.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Any familiar characters and plot lines pertaining to Harry Potter are the property J.K. Rowling. I'm just taking them out for a spin. This disclaimer stands for the entire story.**

 _"We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us is something valuable,_ _worth listening to,_ _worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch."_

 _― E.E. Cummings_

Most people can't tell you the exact moment they fall in love. Love often has a slow, gradual build up. A sweet, beautiful tightening of the heart, a flutter and opening of the soul. For many, it is a steady realization that one has found a kindred spirit to love and be loved in return.

But this was not the case for Miss Hermione Granger, for she was not most people.

Oh, no.

The love that blossomed deep within her was a sudden shock, a wallop right to the gut. For she knew the exact moment she fell in love. The very millisecond her heart, quite on its own accord, chose to beat for another.

It was the end of her third year, as she, Ron and Harry emerged from the Shrieking Shack holding an injured Sirius Black, with Remus Lupin holding Peter Pettigrew at wand-point. Jubilant that they would be bringing Pettigrew to well-deserved justice and clearing Sirius' name. As the stark, bright light of a full moon shone upon Remus' face, the gentle professor began to transform before their very eyes, Hermoine knew that she and her friends were in mortal danger.

She had read many a book on lycanthrope and could recite myriad facts on werewolves, but nothing could prepare her for the abject horror of watching her dear, sweet Professor Lupin transform into a terrifying, heartless beast. His bones stretched and cracked, his skin became covered in matted brown hair and his eyes shone bright yellow with pure animal viciousness. The fear that rushed through her body was overwhelming and she froze, rooted to the spot. For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, she was at a complete loss as to get get out of this situation alive.

It was this very moment of pure terror that an enraged Severus Snape burst forth from the entrance to the shack to issue a lifetime worth of detentions to the golden trio for cursing Snape into unconsciousness. Eyes glittering with rage, anger rolling off of his black billowing robes in hot waves, he leaned menacingly over the golden trio with every intention of snarling many a curse and hex.

This was the man she knew all too well, his dismissive sneer every much a part of his facade as his impeccable black robes. And this glare was one she had received many a time over her three years as Hogwarts' insufferable know-it-all. And for the first time in those three years, she was happy to see him, even in his enraged state.

As Snape snarled at the three students, eyes black with rage, he caught sight of Lupin rapidly transforming and just as swiftly as he spewed angry threats, his anger suddenly drained from his face and his expression turned to one of pure concern for his three charges. Without a moment's thought to his own safety, the greasy git from the dungeons swept around, black robes billowing in the clear night to face the werewolf and shield his three least favorite students from certain peril. Completely selfless and totally uncharacteristic, Hermione could not fathom why Professor Snape, of all people, would do such a thing. As a teacher and spy for the Light, she had always known him to show exceptional honor and dedication.

But this was something entirely different. He had never, not once in three years, ever been kind to her, protect her, show anything close to caring about her.

She didn't expect the protectiveness, the sudden bravery and self-sacrifice. In short, she wasn't expecting him to be any thing other than his usual cruel self. And yet here he was. Gambling with his own life to protect them. To protect her.

As he fearlessly faced down the feral wolf, his strong hands gripped Hermione's side and she was momentarily shocked by his touch. His long pale fingers gripping her with a strength she didn't know he possessed, he held her in place, his grip fierce yet gentle. It felt protective and possessive, like the man couldn't bear to see any harm befall her. Where he touched her, she felt a white, hot burning that went clear down to her toes. With her stomach in her throat, she instinctively clung to him, hands digging into his muscular shoulder, hoping to survive this nightmare. His unwavering protectiveness was both daunting and overwhelming in its fierceness. The warmth of his body coupled with his sweet, pungent smell made her dizzy.

She was overcome by panic but she felt some thing else beneath that tide of fear, she felt...relieved.

Just having him there to protect her, to battle this werewolf, so that for once in her life, she didn't have to be the one to come up with a plan and be brave and have it all figured out. She felt safer with him there, and that was truly a bizarre thing to have ever thought about Professor Snape.

As the werewolf stretched to his full height, the ferocious beast let out an earth-shattering howl that echoed across the silent grounds. Hermione let out a shriek before she could stop herself. The frightened sound caught the wolf's attention and he began to lunge forward, straight towards the professor and his charges. But Snape didn't shrink back. He stood tall and fearless, clutching the three terrified students behind him with all his might, willing to accept whatever fate awaited him.

Without a second to spare, Sirius transformed into his animagus form and rammed hard into the wolf, dazing the creature long enough to grab his attention. The dog and wolf tussled hard across the green grass, biting and clawing eachother with pent-up rage. Sirius then chased the werewolf into the dense forest, thus saving Snape and the Golden Trio from a terrible fate. Peter Pettigrew took full advantage of the chaos and terror of the moment to transform as well and he took off into the deep, dark night.

As Ron and Harry dashed out from behind Snape to peer into the dense woods, looking for Remus, Sirius and Peter, Hermione let out a shaky breath, her heart shuddering at how close they just came to dying. She closed her eyes as she gently rested her forehead against Professor Snape's back, clutching his robes in her hands, trying desperately to calm her pounding heart.

He didn't move. Not a single inch. He stood there and let her lean into him, granting her a blessed moment to collect herself and find some comfort in the frightening, random chaos that swirled around them. His hand still clutching her, his own breath finally came out in a woosh.

After a long moment, Snape turned his head every so slightly. Hermione lifted her head at the very moment and they looked deeply into eachother's eyes, their bodies touching, their hearts racing, their faces mere inches apart.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" His voice sounded so soft, so full of genuine, quiet concern. Hermione couldn't quite believe the words had really come from his lips.

Those lips that had only seemed to be made to spew insults, slander and cruel remarks. They suddenly seemed so very different. She stared at them, taking in how full they looked, how welcoming they seemed. She wondered what secrets they held, what they tasted like. She longed to know.

The young woman swallowed hard and finally tore her eyes from those sweet lips and met his unwavering gaze.

"Yes, sir. I'm fine..thanks to you," she softly uttered, enjoying how tightly he still held her, how close he was to her.

He nodded, his gaze drifting across her face, making sure she was indeed alright before slowly removing his hand from her side and turning to face her.

"Good. We aren't safe here, we must all return to the castle at once," he stated quietly, yet matter-of-factly.

He turned from her and strode towards Ron and Harry and grabbed them roughly by their shirt collars, all traces of kind concern vanishing as he pulled the boys roughly toward the castle.

But as he approached Hermione, he caught her gaze again, his eyes softening ever so slightly.

"Miss Granger, if you would kindly lead the way."

He released Harry and Ron and the boys stumbled forward, catching up to Hermione, as the the trio rushed back towards home.

Climbing the steep mossy bank, the grounds were bathed in soft moonlight. The lovely surroundings, the soft hoot of a distant owl, the gentle breeze belied the terrifying events of the evening. A casual observer wouldn't have been able to fathom the notion that the quartet had just narrowly escaped a certain death.

The boys frantically whispered about Pettigrew's whereabouts, Sirius' safety, what Dumbledore would say, but Hermione couldn't really hear any of it. Her mind was still on the man trudging ten feet behind her, his wand pulled and at the ready, his body still shielding her and her friends from any danger.

She glanced back to see him eyeing the forest, his body strong and resolute, his rigid posture unrelenting in its sole purpose: protection. She knew then and there they would make it back to the castle safely. He was there and there was no need to fear, he wouldn't let any harm befall them, not while he still drew breath.

As they reached the steep castle steps, their eyes met once more and Hermione felt it.

Fire...pure and absolute. Bright, beautiful and fierce, the likes of which she had never known.

She felt it flood her heart, she felt it cloud her turbulent thoughts, she felt it take up residence deep in her heart. Everything she thought she knew and felt was suddenly and irrevocably called into question.

It was this very moment that Hermione felt her whole world crumble. The puzzle pieces of her existence carefully rearranging themselves into a new picture, one that was so very different from just a few hours ago.

She knew, in this quiet, seemingly unremarkable moment, that her long-held respect for Professor Snape wasn't the only thing she now felt for the towering professor under the stark, cold moonlight.

 **A/N: This story opens with Hermione at the end of her third year, which would put her at 14, almost 15. If you take into account her use of the time turner she would definitely be 15. However, she is still underage. So this chapter was purely her perspective, her realizing she loves Severus. Nothing about him loving her at this point, just him feeling protective of her. Just wanted to clarify that before moving forward. Thanks again for reading :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: For those of you who only knew this story as a one-shot, thanks so much for returning to read more :) Do be sure to reread chapter 1 because it has been expanded a bit. Again, thank you all for stopping by. All reviews, suggestions, and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :)**

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 _We can never be born enough._

 _― E.E. Cummings_

The final battle was in full-swing, raging and roaring all around him and it and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

The noise was deafening. The horrifying din of screaming, dying witches and wizards filled his heart and soul with such profound sorrow. He idly wondered if it would ever end.

Severus Snape, the bat of the dungeons and potions master extraordinaire, spy and traitor, man and myth was lying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack slowly bleeding to death. His life was ebbing away, painting the filthy floor a bright shade of crimson, not that it mattered to anyone in particular.

Potter had just fled the decrepit shack, with Snape's memories clasped in a vial. Severus had offered Potter his memories in the hope of giving the young man the information he needed to defeat Voldemort but deep down Severus feared it wasn't going to do a damn bit of good.

The Light was going to lose, Severus was sure of it. Voldemort was simply too powerful, too ruthless to be beaten. The Light could never sink to his depraved level and in choosing to fight clean, they would ensure their own demise. Dumbledore had been wrong this whole time. No amount of good intentions and happy thoughts would beat him, for Voldemort was willing to do anything to win. How could the Light compete? The Dark Lord was going to emerge victorious, with every witch, wizard and muggle at his nonexistent mercy and the new world order would be a truly terrifying place.

Pure, volatile rage swelled in Severus' chest at the very thought that he couldn't do anything to stop it. All his sacrifice, his dedication, his subterfuge had turned out to be for naught. Nagini had mercilessly sunk her sharp fangs deep into his pale skin and kindly missed his carotid artery by mere millimeters. The vicious beast had unwittingly cursed him with the unique opportunity to feel his death coming slowly, oh so slowly.

So there he laid, completely alone, awaiting the inevitable. His body was gradually closing up shop and giving up the good fight, once and for all. His life's work, it would seem, was finally done. No students to yell at, no pretenses to keep up, no more responsibilities to fulfill. He had nothing left in the world to do but lay back and patiently wait for death to kindly arrive.

His whole body felt cold, like he had been slowly submerged in an icy lake. He could no longer move his legs or arms. His mind was slowing down too. His thoughts felt as if they were being pulled through thick mud.

 _Potter... he is going to die. He won't be able to kill Voldemort._

 _Lily...my dear, sweet Lily. I failed her. Her death had been in vain._

 _The students, Minerva, Ron Weasley, Miss Granger…they're all innocent...they don't deserve this...So many will die ...This is my fault. My father was right, I am indeed worthless._

His eyes stung with burning tears, the only warmth that graced his frigid body.

The screams and explosions were gradually starting to fade, morphing into a dull, white noise. He felt like his head was going underwater, too. Everything felt a million miles away.

Darkness was coming. He felt it swarming about him, bringing with it a hollow comfort.

He knew it was coming and he expected peace along with, yet there was none. Only anger and resignation.

He closed his weary eyes against all the madness, feeling himself slip away. His rest was finally coming and he wanted it, more than words could express.

As the noise faded and the world dulled around the edges, he felt his breath slow and his eyes close one last time. He felt himself being pulled away, like a deep ocean tide pulling him into the inky, bottomless depths.

Time seemed to move in an indeterminate fashion, as his soul made the long journey though this immortal passage. When the swirling and spinning finally stopped, he cautiously opened his eyes. He was surprised to find himself upright and walking into a large, golden hallway. He was dressed in all white and bathed in a warm, comforting light and his body was healed and whole once more. As he glanced around the ornate and empty hall, his eyes fell on his life's dearest wish and his biggest regret.

Standing before him, smiling and looking as lovely as ever, was none other than Lily Potter.

His breath caught in his chest at the very sight of her. Without pausing to think, he rushed to her and gathered her up in his arms, dearly clutching her, much like he did the night she passed.

"Oh, Lily...is it you? Is it really you?," he asked, pulling back to really look at her.

"Hello, Severus," she smiled, looking like the twenty-year old woman he so loving remembered.

Her voice. That voice that had filled his head for eighteen years. She was real, she had said his name. It filled his heart with such pure joy. He wept unabashedly, crushing her in a fierce embrace, his tears wetting her perfect, lovely curls.

He held her, simply feeling her, for what felt like hours.

He finally found the courage to speak.

"I've missed you, Lily," he softly spoke.

"I've missed you, too, Severus," she said as a warm, genuine smile spread across her youthful face.

At these words he felt his throat burn with all the anguish and sorrow he had swallowed for two decades.

"I'm so sorry, Lily, for every horrible thing I've ever done. I've hurt you, I cost you so very much. I can't begin to show you how very sorry I am," he said in supplication, looking into her eyes.

"Severus, I know how much you've sacrificed, how you've watched over my son. You've kept him safe, you've risked so much. Thank you for everything," her eyes shining with genuine gratitude.

"Lily, how can you thank me? After all I have done? It's all my fault you died. I can never tell you the guilt and sorrow I've carried. I'm eternally sorry for all I have done to you."

"I know you are, Severus. I know," she offered.

"You've done you're very best to right a wrong. Now you have to forgive yourself," she said, looking into his reddened eyes.

"I don't know if I ever can," he answered honestly.

"You must, Severus. You must forgive yourself," Lily smiled knowingly, quietly bracing herself for what she had to say next.

"For you see, Severus, your work is not done yet. You have more to do," Lily cryptically offered.

"I don't understand. I'm dead, there is nothing more I can do," said a thoroughly confused Severus.

Lily smiled and said, "You're not dying tonight, Severus. You must go back. They need you."

Severus' eyes widened in shock. He couldn't believe what she was saying.

"No! No, that can't be! I'm dead! I'm here with you now, I can't go back," he said, the panic in his voice rising as he realized that she was serious.

"You don't have a choice, Severus. You still have an obligation to fulfill," she said.

"Don't speak to me of obligations!" he yelled, his temper flaring.

"I've lived my entire life repaying what I did to you. I protected your son, I gave my life protecting others. Please…please, dear gods, Lily, let me done," his voice pleading and full of sadness.

"I know how much you've given…and I'm sorry for this. Truly I am, but you must return, you still have more to do," she said.

"No, I want to be here with you. You're all I've ever wanted. I've loved you my entire life. I was never brave enough to tell you, but my heart has always belonged to you, Lily. It always will."

He stepped forward to hold her and she let him, her head resting against his heaving chest.

They were quiet for a long time before Lily spoke again.

"I loved you, too, Severus. I truly did. But our love…it wasn't meant to be. There were other things awaiting us."

He hung his head in resignation and pulled away from her warm embrace. Even in death, he would never have her.

"Maybe for you, but not for me. I'll always love you, Lily. Nothing else awaits me."

"Don't be so sure, Severus," she said, lifting his chin so she could look into his eyes, a small smile paying across her lovely lips.

The words stopped him and he gently clasped her soft hand.

"What do you mean? I don't understand. What's awaiting me? What do I have to do?" he asked, his voice rising as uncertainty took hold.

She smiled again and said, "That I can't tell you. You'll see in time," she said cupping his cheek, looking deeply into his mournful eyes.

"You should really get going," she said, smiling. "You have a lot of people counting on you," she said, knowing far more than she could say.

"No! No, please no, Lily. Forgive me, Lily. Let me stay!" his sad eyes full of anguished, unshed tears.

"I already forgave you, Severus, I did a very long time ago. Now you must forgive yourself. And...you must finally let me go."

His heart stopped at the words she had uttered so easily, so casually. How could he ever let go of his love for her? It was the only solace, the only joy he had known in his long, lonely, miserable life. Just the memory of her friendship had brought him some small happiness and had seen him through many a tragedy. How could he simply set that down and walk away from it? Without that love, he would be completely empty.

"You must live, Severus. Really live. And you'll never be able to do that while you still long for me. Things are coming, Severus, both good and bad. You will be integral in combating the terrible things but only if you make the right choices. And the good things will only come if you allow them. You can choose to have happiness or you can choose to walk away from it. I'm asking you to choose that happiness when it comes. It will serve you and others more than you can ever imagine."

"This is so confusing, I don't understand. Lily, please, what things are coming? What if I can't do this? What if I can't let you go?"

"My dear Severus," she said, softly cupping his cheek and smiling sadly.

"I'm already gone," she all but whispered, her green eyes so breathtakingly beautiful.

At this, she leaned forward and gave him the one thing he longed for, the only thing he wanted. She blessed him with a kiss, her soft lips brushing against his with such exquisite tenderness. He leaned in and felt his heart burst apart. He had wanted her for so long and he couldn't quite believe he finally had her. Every little thing about her felt perfect. Her hair was soft and lush, she smelled of strawberries, her smaller frame fitted so perfectly within his long arms. He held her and relished the feeling of her sweet lips against his. He finally had his Lily and yet, he sadly realized that this kiss wasn't a beginning, but rather a good-bye. For he knew he was going to have to leave her.

He realized with a sharp stab of bright pain, that this was his penance. This right here was his true punishment; not watching out for her son or serving the Light. It was this, having her, for the briefest of moments, and then having to leave her.

As she pulled back from him, he felt true sorrow, for this was the very last good bye. There would be no more. He would have to forever relinquish her to another and he felt his throat close tight at the sadness that washed over him.

"Goodbye, Severus. Take care of yourself and remember what I said," she smiled and turned away.

"I love you, Lily. I always will," he offered to her retreating frame.

"Just wait and see, Severus. She just might surprise you," she smiled over her shoulder.

"Who? Who will surprise me?" he called out but Lily was well and truly gone now.

He knew there was no use fighting, he felt himself being pulled away. Away from his only love, his heart breaking open at the sharp pain that cut through him with a cold viciousness.

And just as suddenly as he arrived, he suddenly felt himself being pulled back from the light, his whole being, his heart and soul, raging against the injustice of it all.

The peace and comfort he had felt vanished in an instant as he groaned against the overwhelming pain now enveloping his body. As his eyes weakly fluttered open, he realized he was still laying on the disgusting floor of the damn Shreiking Shack, still bleeding, still alive.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, feeling excruciating pain all over his body. But worse than the pain, was unbearable notion that he had to keep on living, keep on trudging through this lonely, sad life. How he wanted to cry out at the injustice of it all but couldn't seem to summon the strength.

It was then that he realized that he was no longer alone.

Someone was with him and they were...helping him. At least they were trying to.

He felt warm hands on his neck, pressing hard against his gaping wound, eliciting a groan of agony from deep within him. He opened his eyes but his vision was so blurry from the excruciating pain and the poison coursing through his veins. He could just barely make out a form crouched next to him. Whoever it was, was murmuring a cacophony of incantations, the words tumbling from their lips in a hurried jumble. He then felt his lips being gently pulled apart and a bitter potion being unceremoniously poured down his throat.

The thought of someone offering him any kind of assistance was truly baffling. In the middle of the most bloody, horrific fight in wizarding history, someone was trying to save his worthless life. He wondered who would care enough to do this. The thought was both puzzling and oddly touching.

He felt his neck wound close itself, the pain was blinding and he heard a soft "Sorry, Professor." at the pain it caused him. The voice was so familiar, he wondered quietly why he couldn't place it. It was a girl, no…a young woman. She sounded panicked, her voice was strained and she was obviously trying to hide it and project some confidence.

As the minutes ticked by slowly, the woman gradually quieted and Severus could begin to feel his extremities once again. He could feel raw pain coursing through every inch of his battered body and the pain was what kept him from floating away.

Once the immediate threat had passed, the woman murmured a pain relief charm that offered pure, blessed relief to the long-suffering professor.

It was quiet then for a long time, his breathing gradually calming as the pain began to retreat. His eyes closed, he assumed that who ever had helped him had surreptitiously left. But then he hard her soft, melodic voice. It was lovely and quiet and full of tender concern. He felt unworthy to hear such beauty in the midst of such horror.

She leaned close, her lips brushing against his ear and she said softly, "I've stopped the poison for now. I have to go now and help the others but I will return to you. Just rest now, Professor. Please don't try to move. I promise to come back for you soon."

And for the second time that night, Severus Snape felt soft lips brush against his own. Even in his weakened, fragile state, Severus could feel how different this kiss felt. It was light and careful but it felt passionate, intimate and possessive. This wasn't the same mournful, good-bye kiss that Lily had granted him, this instead was a kiss full of longing, joy and relief. It had, in fact, felt full of love. It was tender and soulful, it held a promise of good things to come. It was a first kiss rather than a last, and it left him too stunned to move or think.

"Rest now, Professor. Everything is going to be alright," the young lady said, as she brushed the hair off of his bruised face. She quickly stood and murmured a final incantation. A rush of magical energy engulfed him and he felt cocooned in a bubble of comfort and safety. She then rushed off into the dark night, fearlessly facing more danger and uncertainty.

He could hear the pounding of her shoes hitting the wooden floorboards as she sped away. Once the sound of her footsteps disappeared, he found he could no longer resist the siren call of rest and he drifted off into a deep slumber, wondering who in the hell had just saved him and whether or not he was happy about it.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you all so much for all the great reviews and follows/favs! It's really quite encouraging and I am indeed appreciative that you not only take the time to read my story but also comment and follow it. Thanks so much :)**

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 _there's time for laughing and there's time for crying—_  
 _for hoping for despair for peace for longing_  
 _—a time for growing and a time for dying:_  
 _a night for silence and a day for singing_

 _-E.E. Cummings_

His eyes were piercing and horrifying. Complete devoid of any humanity. Red as a robin's wings and bright as the sun, full only of viscousness, like those of a feral animal. If she lived to be a thousand, Hermione would never forget them. They are the thing she remembered most as Voldemort drew his last breath. His red eyes were wide with complete surprise as an agonizing, gut-curdling scream ripped from his ghastly form, the sound echoing across the grounds, as Harry Potter vanquished him, once and for all.

She saw it happen. She saw the end come and lived through it. It was electrifying and exhilarating to finally have this victory, to cheat death of its sweet reward. No more fear, no more agony would befall her loved ones and that thought alone made her weep tears of joy.

The Light had emerged victorious. Clusters of cowardly Death Eaters disapparated en masse as they saw their lord and master disappear in a cloud of dust and fury. Her friends, her family, rejoiced with all their hearts, their cries of joy carrying miles away, floating far and away on the wind like a dandelion's thistles.

Harry grabbed her and held her tight. They had always known this moment would come, when Harry would have to face Voldemort but they never knew how it would end. After seeing Snape's memories, Harry told Hermione what he had witnessed in the pensieve and they both knew that Harry's chances of living were nonexistent. Holding him now, feeling him safe and alive brought her a felicity that was truly indescribable.

They had survived and she feet weightless with joy. She knew she had one more thing to do and not much time with which to do it. She looked Harry in the eye and said "I have to go get him."

Harry knew exactly who she meant and gave her a quick nod as she offered a small smile and dashed away.

 _~~~~0000~~~~_

Hermione was running on pure adrenaline now. Her legs were burning, her body alight from pain, but yet she moved onward. She had no time to spare. As people were hugging and rejoicing around her, she used every last ounce of energy to get back to the Shrieking Shack.

Time was working against her. The spelled she had cast to diminish the poison wouldn't work for much longer. Every minute she wasted was a minute less to get Professor Snape the real care he needed. So she tore through the shattered grounds, past weeping survivors, past irate Death Eaters being led away by smug aurors. She shut it all out, she had to if she was going to make it back to him in time.

Reaching the Whomping Willow, she nimbly touched the knot at the base of the trunk and saw the massive tree freeze in mid-air, allowing her entrance to the tunnel that would lead her back to him. She had offered every spell she could think of and hoped that her rudimentary medical knowledge had been enough to stop the poison from taking hold.

She raced through the long, winding tunnel, time seeming to move in slow-motion, and pounded up the creaking wooden stairs, hoping against hope that he had somehow, miraculously, pulled through.

Her breath tearing from her body in ragged gasps, she finally reached the door to the bedroom and dissolved the heavy wards that concealed him through the long night. As she wrenched open the door, she found him still lying there, covered in dried blood, completely motionless.

Her feet couldn't carry her fast enough to be next to him. In mere seconds she had crossed the dank room and was falling to his side, taking in his injuries and current state with pure panic flooding her heart. He looked even worse than when she left him.

"Please be alright, please be alright," she quietly chanted, her brown eyes wide with worry.

She immediately ran her fingers to his pale neck, checking for a pulse. After a long moment, she finally felt the faint throbbing of a light pulse, right beneath the tender flesh. She let out the breath she seemed to have been holding for an eternity. She kept her fingers there, simply feeling his pulse, a small semblance of relief washing over her. The steady whooshing of life blood beneath her soft fingers, brought a small smile to her tired face and tears to her weary eyes. But she refused to cry, there simply wasn't time for it. He was far from healed and needed expert medical attention, as soon as humanly possible, if he was going to pull through.

She drew a deep breath, summoning her strength, and quickly stood on battered, weary legs. She pulled her faithful wand from her back pocket and cast a strong dissolutionment charm on him so that no one would take notice of him. She then levitated the unconscious potions master and the unlikely pair began the long, arduous march towards the castle. Trudging back through the cramped tunnel, a small, hopeful smile played across her face as she kept a watchful eye on her professor, hoping that she could get him back to Poppy in time.

Reaching the end of the tunnel, emerging into the cool, fresh air, she saw the sun peaking just over the horizon, painting the darkened sky with whispers of pink and gold. A new day was dawning.

She felt some small sliver of hope return. For the first time in a long time, she hoped that their suffering had finally come to an end. She hoped today would be the start of good things to come.

 _~~~~0000~~~~_

As Hermione reached the top of the stone steps she caught sight of the front hall before her and gasped at the sheer horror that greeted her.

The entrance hall of Hogwarts no longer resembled the inside of a building but rather the demolished and exposed remains of a once grand and sacred place. Like a ruined medieval cathedral or the remnants of a powerful ancient city, the school had been ravaged by those who could not see and love it's beauty. The current surroundings belied the grandeur that had, until recently, been so effortless, so unwavering.

The vast majority of the ceiling had been torn away, revealing the morning sky above. Large stone pillars, older than Merlin, lay in ruins, dead bodies littered the once glistening marble floor. Scorch marks from misfired spells painted the old stone walls, while dust, cracked earth and debris littered every visible surface. Her home, her refuge, her last remaining bastion of knowledge and light, had been brought mercilessly to its knees and the sight was crushing to take in.

It had all been shattered, with such ease, and the image around her was a sobering one. Aurors were painstakingly wading through bodies, identifying those who had fallen and removing them to the Great Hall to be dealt with accordingly.

Hermione saw many she knew, laying lifeless, scattered about like broken tinker toys. Colin Creevy, Lavendar Brown, Pavarti Patil were just a handful of those she saw laying dead. Gone in the blink of an eye, mere children in the grand scheme of things, sacrificed for the greater good. This was how it all shook out. Voldemort had been vanquished once and for all, but at what a high cost. So many innocents had perished, so many bright lives extinguished far too soon.

Staring around this once beautiful hall, she suddenly felt her knees buckle as the magnitude of what had been lost hit her square in the heart. She leaned against the doorframe and doubled over, her hands resting on her knees as she gasped desperately for air, with her professor still cloaked and hovering behind her, blissfully unaware of the swirling, maddening chaos that surrounded them.

As she closed her eyes tight, clutching her knees with all her might, she realized with a start that she couldn't cry. She wanted to, desperately so. If ever there was a time to cry, it was now. And yet, she couldn't. The well spring of complex emotions she had felt earlier was now suddenly gone. And in their absence she felt hollow, empty, bereft in every sense if the word. The catastrophe that surrounded her was too harsh, too ugly and too frightening to fully take in. There simply weren't enough tears to shed at theextraordinary loss.

So with a great deal of resolve, she stood and steeled her shoulders and waded through the catastrophe. She still had a job to do and now wasn't the time to indulge in her sadness. There would be time for that later. The only thought filling her head was to get him to the infirmary, if indeed there was still was one standing.

 _~~~~0000~~~~_

Rounding the corner at top speed, Hermione felt pure, blessed relief as she spotted the infirmary up ahead, still in one piece and bursting at the seems with injured witches and wizards. Wading nimbly through the crowd, she pushed through the infirmary doors, Snape hovering right behind her, though no could see him. There she found almost all of her loved ones awaiting her, in various degrees of injury.

The room was packed with beds and people, some well but most badly injured from the intense battle. In the middle of all the noise and blood was Madam Pomfery, bustling about, ever the caregiver, helping as many as she could. Just seeing the older witch still standing, still helping and healing was such a beautiful sight. Hermione let out a breath.

Hermione quickly scanned the room and saw Harry. He was sitting on a bed, holding Ginny's hand who was unconscious, her small frame looking frail beneath a thin blanket, her head was bandaged. Arthur stood beside her, clucthing her other hand, looking tired and somber.

Hermione strode toward them and as Harry caught sight of her, he quickly stood and crushed her in a warm embrace.

"Are you alright? Is Snape okay?" Harry asked, genuine concern playing across his face.

Hermione nodded as she transfigured a bed out of a chair and settled Professor Snape upon it, finally lifting the disillusionment charm she had placed on him for protection.

"Is he going to make it?" Harry asked, worry apparent in his voice as he leaned over to look at Snape.

"I don't know. I cast every spell I could think of, but Nagini's poison was profoundly powerful. I think I've only bought us some more time. He really needs to get to St. Mungo's," Hermione said nervously.

"Hermione, everyone still thinks he's a Death Eater who killed Dumbledore and fought against us. We can't send him to St. Mungo's or he'll get the Dementor's Kiss before sundown," Harry answered matter-of-factly.

"He has to stay here to heal while we clear his name," Harry said, adamant about protecting the man who, he now knew, had protected him his whole life.

Hermione smiled at the reasonable, kind man that sat before her. Harry had grow up so much in the past year, sometimes it felt like she was talking to a different person instead of the fiery, impulsive man of his youth.

"You're right," she said. "Then he needs to see Madam Pomfrey immediately. I don't know how much time he has left," Hermione said as she looked nervously around the crowded room for the older witch.

Spotting her, Hermione called out "Madam Pomfrey, please come quickly! It's Professor Snape. He needs help!"

The room quieted as the mediwitch bustled over to examine the former headmaster. If it bothered her to be treating a known Death Eater, she didn't show it. But rather went quickly about her work, assessing the extent of his injuries.

The rest of the room however paled as they realized that the infamous Severus Snape was indeed being treated. Quiet murmurs of dissent could be heard from throughout the room as many openly scowled and glared at the disgraced potions master. But Madam Pomfery continued working as if it were any other patient.

"Nagini bit him, right on the throat," offered Harry, trying to be of some help.

Madam Pomfery nodded and scuttled away, only to return a moment later with salve, bandages and myriad of potions.

"I need to perform the first of many purging spells to clear his body of the poison," she said, working quickly.

As Harry and Hermione patiently waited by the bedside, Ron suddenly burst through the infirmary doors, sweating profusely, wand still drawn and completely out of breath. His eyes quickly darted around the room and when he finally caught sight of Hermione his face broke into a wide grin as he rushed to her in a single bound.

"Oh, 'Mione. I couldn't find you, I've been looking everywhere for you," he said, cupping her face and pulling her in for a forceful kiss.

Harry's eyes shot wide in surprise and took a discrete step back.

Hermione blushed and quickly pulled away, swallowing hard at the thought that Ron might just walk up and kiss her whenever the mood stuck him.

That was the second kiss they had shared that night, the first being earlier in the battle in the chamber of secrets before she and Harry had found Professor Snape. Hermione had let him kiss her earlier, thinking it was just nerves but she now realized that maybe Ron had felt something stronger for her.

As she pulled back, Ron looked confused and slightly upset. He had just left his mother, Percy and George, who were still reeling from the loss of Fred. Seeing his family suffer such a terrible loss, Ron realized that he needed Hermione more than ever. Not just as a friend but as a love and partner. He pulled her close once again and clutched her dearly, like a safe port in a fierce storm. That is, until he caught sight of Professor Snape.

"What's he doing here?" Ron asked angrily as he pulled roughly away from Hermione, watching Madam Pomfrey diligently continue her work.

"He was bitten by Nagini and almost died. Hermione saved him and brought him back here to be healed," Harry offered.

"You did what!? Why would you save him? He deserved to die, just like the rest of them," yelled a now livid Ron.

"No, Ron, you don't understand..." started Hermione but Ron cut her off.

"No, I understand plenty! I've just lost my brother and you're off saving this tosser!" Ron yelled.

"Ron, he's been protecting Harry and us this whole time! He never went back to being a Death Eater, he was always on our side. He was never a traitor!" Hermione countered.

"What!? You believe that? You really are more gullible than I thought," Ron spat, the venom in his words stinging Hermione more than she cared to admit.

"Ron, you've lost alot tonight and you're not thinking clearly," Arthur offered, trying to calm his headstrong son.

"Why don't we all step outside and calm down and discuss this," Harry offered, trying to pull his friend out of the infirmary to a quieter venue.

"No! Piss off, Harry!" Ron yelled, shaking off his friend and ignoring his father's glare.

"I've lost my brother tonight and where was she?! Saving a Death Eater! He killed Dumbledore, you know? Don't you care about that?!" screamed Ron at Hermione, the entire room completely silent.

"Professor Snape gave Harry his memories, we know the truth now. Dumbledore was going to die anyway and Snape made an unbreakable vow to kill Dumbledore in order to save Draco from having to do it. Don't you see? He's sacrificed everything to protect us! His safety, his well-being, his very soul! He's braver than you'll ever know," she screamed, finally venting her anger.

Ron couldn't have been more stunned than if she had smacked him in the face.

"Well, that's just great, Hermione," he said a bit quieter.

"Good for Snape. Let's make sure he gets a nice shiny medal for being a sniveling coward who killed the finest man this castle has ever known just to save his own ass," Ron said, acid dripping with each word.

"It's not like that, Ron. You're upset and not thinking clearly. When you've had a chance to calm down, this will all make more sense," Harry said, trying to be the voice of reason.

Ron merely shook his head, stubbornly refusing to see anything other than what he wanted to see, his grief clouding everything around him.

"It's alright, Harry. I see how it is," Ron said glaring at the woman he has just kissed. "We just have different priorities now, don't we?" he asked without expecting a response.

"I'm leaving now," he announced. "Percy and George took Mum home and I'm going to go be with them," he said, the fight suddenly draining from him.

He crossed the room to get to the fireplace and as he prepared to leave he turned and said "You coming with me, Hermione?" his eyes mournful.

She hesitated. She knew he needed comfort right now and as his friend she should be there for him. But as she chanced a single, guilty glance at Professor Snape, Ron knew the answer to his question.

"No, Ron. I have things here to take care of here. I'll come by and check on you later," she offered.

"Right. Sure you will," he said, as he eyes darted angrily at Professor Snape.

The Floo flames lit up green as Ron stepped in and called out "Weasley Burrow," his eyes full of hurt and anger as he glared at Hermione before disappearing.

Tears stung her eyes and Harry crossed to her and held her.

"He's just hurt. Give him some time, it'll be alright," Harry said, smiling weakly.

She nodded and wiped her eyes, focusing once more on the work Madam Pomfrey was offering the professor.

Hermione was just sitting down to observe when suddenly the infirmary doors burst open as Remus came rushing in, completely out of breath, clutching a motionless Tonks in his arms. Following in his wake was Sirius, looking gray and heartbroken.

Every head turned to take in the sight of Remus. He looked anguished and frightened, like a scared, helpless child, more than a grown man at that moment. He held his wife's still body in his strong arms. People quickly cleared a path for the determined wolf.

"Poppy! Please come quick! I've just found Dora but I can't...I can't...she...she won't wake up," he said, his eyes wide with fear.

He gently set her down, her body not moving. Poppy quickly rushed forward to access her.

"She was battling...when we got separated and when I finally found her she was...I've tried everything, but I can't seem to fix her. Please, Poppy, do something!" he screamed at the small witch.

Poppy knew. She knew immediately, but she tried anyway.

Running her wand uselessly across Tonks' rigid body, Poppy's throat closed at the sadness that washed over her.

There was no pulse, no breath, no signs of life.

Remus watched wide-eyed as Poppy quietly placed her wand on the bedside table.

"Poppy what are you doing?! Do something! Heal her!" he raged.

Poppy took a deep breath and her sad eyes finally met Remus'.

"I'm so sorry, Remus," she quietly said. "But her injuries...are too numerous, her body has been hurt beyond repair."

She paused, letting the grave words work their terrible magic and sink deep into the wolf's heart.

"I'm so sorry, Remus," Poppy said with tears in her eyes, "She's gone."

Pure rage tore through Remus as he shook his head vigorously, his eyes burning red with unshed tears.

"No, no," he said resolutely, as if the matter were solely up to him.

"That's not possible. Surely you have some potion or a spell or..." he asked, his voice angry and full of impotent rage.

"I'm sorry Remus. She's dead, there's nothing I can do," Poppy calmly said again.

"No! Please, Poppy, try! Just try!" he begged, grabbing at her robes, his eyes wild with grief.

"It's no use," she offered, her small hands closing around Remus', trying valiantly to get him to understand.

He jerked away from her comforting touch, he couldn't bear any comfort or pity, not now.

"Fine! If you won't help me, I'll do it myself!" he screamed, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

Jerking a large cabinet violently open, Remus pulled out vial after vial of potion and he rushed to Tonks' side. The assembled crowd watched in stunned silence, no one knowing quite what to do with the tragedy unfolding before them.

Uncorking a thin vial full of bright blue potion, he gently tilted her lifeless head up and tried in vain to get her to take the potion, but it merely spilled from her lips.

"Come on now, darling, you have to take this if you want to get better," he said softly, his voice trembling with a frantic, desperate edge.

"We need to get home to Teddy, he'll be waking up soon and he'll be looking for you," he said, his voice so full of aching sadness. He gently wiped her mouth and tried more potions, all with the same effect.

Becoming increasingly more desperate, he pulled his wand and pointed at her and yelled "Rennervate!"

Nothing changed. Nothing at all. She laid perfectly still.

"Rennervate!" He shouted again more forcefully, his body beginning to shake as reality was starting to set in.

Still nothing.

Harry went to step forward to stop Remus, but Sirius stopped him with a firm hand and a head shake, the animagus never taking his eyes off of his dear friend. Sirius knew how this felt, how helpless and frightening this moment could feel and he knew Remus had to come to terms with it in his own way. Grief was something that had to be welcomed in, it couldn't be forced. Remus had to be the one to let it in on his own.

Remus tried the spell again and again and again and still Tonks laid lifeless by his side.

Remus couldn't give up. He had to try something else. His eyes darted around the room and fell on Hermione.

"Hermione! Thank god you're here!" Remus yelled.

He strode towards her and clutched her, dragging her reluctantly towards Tonks.

"Hermione, what is the thing that muggles do when you stop breathing? CRP?! How's it done? I can't remember!"

"Remus...Remus, you can't save her that way. She was killed with magic, the muggle way won't help," Hermione said pulling his arm to try and stop his frantic movements.

But he simply brushed her off and he leaned over his wife.

"It's worth a try!" he angrily said.

He leaned down and locked his lips onto Tonks', and breathed quickly into her mouth, his breath causing her rigid chest to momentarily rise.

"See! It's working! It's going to help!" he said, futile hope apparent in his tired face.

He breathed into her mouth over and over again. Minutes ticked painfully by as he breathed for her, the occupants of the room overwhelmed by the scene playing out before them.

After what seemed like an eternity, Remus was beginning to tire. His body was slowing down, his muscles were burning, his throat tightening. The strain was catching up to him. He finally had to stop, to catch his own breath. And when he did he finally looked down at his wife and saw her, really saw her, for the first time since he walked into the room.

Taking in the sight of her blue lips, her blood-stained hair, her rigid, unyielding posture, he finally grasped that she was well and truly gone. Nothing he could do would change that.

He felt his whole body go slack, as his wand dropped to the stone floor with a gentle clatter that echoed across the absolutely silent room. He sunk heavily onto her bed, feeling pure defeat wash over him.

He gently leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

"Please, Dora. C'mon now...I can't do this without you," he whispered as he cupped her face.

Feeling her cold skin beneath his calloused fingers, his tears finally came in a torrent, the depths of his grief opening up like a bottomless well finally springing forth.

The sobs that came from deep within him could have shook the castle walls clear to the ground, if there had been many walls left standing. He raged and sobbed and held her for what felt like hours, his grief a horrifying and humbling thing to witness.

Those who didn't need to stay for care, left the infirmary. Even those being treated seemed to back away from the wolf and campout in the crumbled hallway, trying to offer the poor man some privacy in his grief. Sirius was the only one who dared stay near him. He sat just a few feet away, never taking his eyes off of Remus. After sometime, Sirius finally stepped forward and placed a warm hand on his dear friend's shoulder.

Remus looked up at Sirius and dissolved anew in his dear friend's arms. Sirius held him tight, taking on as much grief and rage from his dear friend as he could. The pair sank to the floor in a heap and remained as one for a very long time.

"We should go, Remus," Sirius finally said, sitting next to his friend, holding his hand.

"I can't. I can't leave her, it wouldn't be right," he said quietly, looking over at Tonks.

"Remus..." Sirius said, using his given name, "she's not here anymore," said Sirius, his voice full of sorrow at having to point this out.

Remus hung his head and looked as if he might stay right there for all eternity.

"We should go check on Teddy," Sirius offered. "We can come back later and make all the arrangements. Okay? Does that sound okay, Remus?" Sirius carefully asked, brushing his sandy hair way from his eyes so they could see eachother.

Remus stared at Sirius and knew he was right. Like every parent who came before him and every parent who would come after, Remus knew he had to pull himself together, for the sake of his dear boy. He had a child to care for, he didn't have the luxury of falling apart.

So he wearily dried his eyes and gave Tonks one last kiss on the forehead and slowly left the infirmary, with Sirius holding him upright the whole way.

 _~~~~0000~~~~_

The rest of the day passed in the blink of an eye. Hermione, along with Luna and Neville, assisted Madam Pomfrey with the multitude of patients. They bandaged, sutured, offered pain relief and transferred the most severely injured to St. Mungo's via the Floo connection. All told, they treated one hundred and fifty patients by the time the sun was setting in the early summer sky.

As the infirmary began to clear out and quiet, with the remaining patients and their loved ones drifting off into a fitful slumber, Hermione finally made her way back to Professor Snape. He had been one of the more critical patients and Madam Pomfrey had spent a good chunk of her day treating him. Hermione approached his bed carefully as Madam Pomfrey was just finishing a diagnostic check with a sad shake of her head.

"How is his doing, Madam Pomfry? Will he wake up soon?" Hermione asked hopefully.

The mediwitch smiled sadly at the young woman.

"He has a very long way to go, I'm afraid. The poison is still in his body and will take time to work through his system, if indeed he can even survive it," Madam Pomfrey answered sadly.

"Survive it? But...I...I don't understand, he seems stable. He's going to pull through," Hermione stated resolutely. He had to, he simply had to. "Won't he?" Hermione asked, not being able to hide the anguish in her voice.

Madam Pomfrey placed a warm hand on the girl's shoulder and looked into her sad eyes. The mediwitch had spent thirty-five years caring for sick students and she knew a love-sick woman when she saw one. The older witch chose her words carefully before speaking.

"Hermione, there has never been a known case of survival after a bite of this nature. The poison is extremely potent. There was also a long time in between the bite and getting him proper treatment. We'll just have to wait and see, my dear. You did everything you could. But...we may have to prepare for the worst," the older witch said with some resignation.

Madam Pomfrey set about helping more patients as Hermione sat heavily upon Professor Snape's bed, her head reeling from the realization that she might lose him. Lose him before she could ever have him. She took his pale hand in her own. She traced the lines and cuts and scrapes along his pale fingers with curiosity and reverence.

Even before Harry had told her what he saw in the pensieve, Hermione knew. Without a shadow of a doubt she had known Professor Snape was innocent. She had loved him since that night four years ago in the Forbidden Forest. Her heart beat for him and she knew that her heart couldn't be wrong. For the heart could see things that the eyes could not. He had protected them more times than she could count and now he lay here on the brink of death. She had to see him through this, she simply had no other choice. Her heart wouldn't allow anything else. She was going to see to it that he pulled through and that his name was rightfully cleared, even if it killed her. She just wasn't sure how she was going to do it.

She watched him sleep and breathe, marveling at how peaceful he looked. She wished she could feel it too, but she didn't feel anything approaching peace. She only felt useless and angry, all of the chaos and destruction leaving her feeling small and insignificant. To someone like Hermione, who thrived on being in control, it was terrifying to feel so inert, so helpless.

After a long while, Hermione finally stood and walked to the tall window to stare out into the clear, night sky. This sky had no stars, no moon, no bright, shining beacons of light, only darkness. A pitch black expanse stretching endlessly in every direction. She glanced downward and saw the destroyed grounds, the castle in ruins all around her, countless dead bodies still awaiting some respect. Everywhere she looked, she saw destruction.

She closed her eyes, and rested her head against the cool window, as tears, raw and hot, finally spilled down her flushed cheeks.

Voldemort may have been vanquished, but not without a staggering loss to the Light. Sadness, true and deep, overwhelmed her very soul as she realized just how much her world had suffered at his psychotic hands.

There was so much work that lay ahead. Friends to bury, a whole castle to rebuild, and Professor Snape to heal. It all seemed impossibly overwhelming at that very moment. For the first time in her life, Hermione was at a complete loss. She didn't know how in the hell she was going to do it all, for everything around her seemed well and truly destroyed.

She gripped the windowsill and cried silently for a very long time, recalling with anger how hopeful she felt just this morning when she had found Professor Snape alive. That had only been a few hours ago, yet everything now seemed to have taken on a dark, impenetrable sorrow.

She shook her head at her own naiveté. It would seem that optimism had been a poor choice on her part.

She couldn't help but notice how this victory, the very thing they had sought for seven years, felt a hell of a lot like defeat.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This chapter has been rewritten. I expanded the original chapter 4 and it ended up quite big, so I split it into this new 'chapter 4' and 'chapter 5'. I just wasn't happy with the first version I posted, so here is the new one. I think/hope it reads better. Worth another read before heading on to chapter five and six, which both will be up soon. Sorry for the revision. Thanks again for stopping by :)**

* * *

 _"Almost anybody can learn to think, or believe, or know, but not a single human being can be taught to feel. The moment you feel, you're nobody-but-yourself — in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else — means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop fighting."_

 _― E.E. Cummings_

Every single thing about him was alluring, captivating, bewitching. She felt enticed and pulled in by him, completely unable to break away, not that she'd want to.

His voice was rich and deep, and seemed to flood every inch of her body with longing and desire.

His hands were strong, as his long, pale fingers roamed across her body with a reverence and passion that left her breathless.

His lips were tender and soft and when they touched hers, it both weakened her and gave her such strength.

But above all else, it was his words that made her heart catch in her throat.

"I love you, Hermione. I always have," he said, his obsidian eyes boring into hers with such devotion and love.

This was the dream that Hermione had been having each night since the end of the war, three weeks ago. In truth, this exquisite fantasy, that Severus could love her and want to be with her, had been her only reprieve from the harsh, cold reality of day.

She was awoken from her lovely dream, rather rudely so, by the cheery, bright sunlight shining relentlessly through her cracked, bedroom window. She groaned as reality came crashing back on top of her, the weight of her true existence feeling oppressive at best.

Since the end of the battle, her days blurred together in a torrent of exhausting work. Each morning found her working alongside Madam Pomfrey, tending to the patients who were still there. St. Mungo's was absolutely overwhelmed by the number of severe casualties and thus the less serious patients were left to be cared for in the castle.

After changing bandages, administering potions and cleaning wounds, she would then work all over the castle, helping Hagrid on the grounds, or cleaning and hauling away debris with the other professors. Several days a week, she would head down to the dungeons to brew healing potions with Sirius. Her daily work was tedious, exhausting and seemingly endless.

Working nonstop, giving so much of herself, Hermione was emotionally and physically exhausted. She felt well and truly pushed far beyond any limits she had ever felt before and she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep it up.

To make matters worse, her friends, with the exception of Luna and Neville, had seemingly abandoned her and Hogwarts and moved on to greener pastures.

At first, Harry came each afternoon to help as much as he could. He was staying at the Burrow, helping tend to the Weasleys, who were still reeling from Fred's death. Harry and Ginny were closer than ever, as he doted on the youngest Weasley who was recovering slowly at home from her injuries.

So with his heart and head at the Burrow, his daily visits to the castle stopped after the first week and his absence hurt Hermione more than she cared to admit.

She also hadn't heard from Ron. He stayed at the Burrow and according to Harry, he really wasn't speaking to anyone. Ron had been sleeping all day and would then spend his evenings out in Diagon Alley or in London, coming home completely drunk as the sun was just rising in the sky.

Everyone forgave him his behavior, understanding his desire to be left alone but Hermione simply couldn't let it pass. They were all hurting, every last one of them, but now wasn't the time to curl up and wallow in self-pity. His selfish behavior angered her and she was secretly glad she didn't have to deal with him. They had never really cleared the air between them about their kiss or their ensuing fight so she simply wasn't sure where they stood.

But beyond the loneliness and the strain of the exhaustion was the crushing fact that Professor Snape still hadn't woken up. Each day she tended to him first, cleaning his wounds, checking his vitals, reading to him, cleaning him, talking to him, and yet, nothing.

No change whatsoever.

His condition was neither improving nor deteriorating and this neutrality left Hermione feeling uncertain and despondent, her small reserve of hope and optimism pushed to its breaking point.

So she lay perfectly still in her lumpy bed, taking a few calming breaths and reassuring herself that today would be different. Today would be the day that things finally turned around. It simply had to.

 _He will wake up today. He will wake up today. He. Will. Wake. Up. Today._

When she felt sufficiently buoyed, she reluctantly peeled her weary eyes open and pulled her sore, aching body out of bed. She and Luna had been sharing a bedroom in Gryffindor tower, the only house tower to remain mostly unscathed, as the pair helped with the reconstruction effort. Luna had worked the night shift in the infirmary and was thus still sleeping, a small smile settled onto her face.

Hermione quietly pulled on a pair of tattered jeans and a navy blue sweater that had seen better days and surreptitiously tip-toed out of the room.

Her wand shoved in her back pocket, she pulled her frizzy, fraying hair into a tight ponytail and walked purposefully to the hospital wing, to begin yet another long day of work. By now, Hermione was operating mostly on pepper-up potions and minimal sleep and she was starting to looked exhausted and rundown.

Her nails were perpetually caked with dirt and grime that even the strongest cleansing charm couldn't vanish. Her once bright eyes were now sunken and dark, her skin now pale and thin like old tissue paper. Her vibrant smile and boundless cheer now dulled and muted after weeks of hard, exhausting labor.

But she knew, despite her fatigue, both mental and physical, she needed to stay strong and persevere. The castle, and those within it, needed her. She couldn't afford any weakness right now. She had to be strong for him.

Gathering all of her remaining strength, she drew a deep breath, fixed a warm, seemingly sincere smile on her pale face and entered the infirmary, the heavy doors feeling like pushing against solid lead.

The early morning light streamed through the dirty window and filled the cold room with some small feeling of warmth and comfort. The half a dozen or so remaining patients were still sleeping peacefully while Madam Pomfrey bustled about looking determined and focused, doting on each patient with salves, potions and charms.

Although older and just as assuredly exhausted as Hermione, Madam Pomfrey seemed to possess boundless energy, her small form fluttering quickly and efficiently from patient to patient. Hermione smiled at the sight, feeling humbled by just being in the presence of such a powerful, strong witch.

As Madam Pomfrey caught sight the young witch, she smiled and stopped her work momentarily.

"Good morning, dear. Did you sleep at all? You're looking quite peaked this morning," Madam Pomfery said as she warily eyed Hermione's tired, sickly appraeance.

"No, I slept fine, Madam Pomfrey, just feeling a bit run down," Hermione offered with a small smile, hoping to avoid another long chat about her waning health. She was just tired and run down, nothing that could be fixed at the moment.

"Winky just delivered some morning buns and hot chocolate, why don't you sit and eat before starting to work?" Madam Pomfrey offered warmly.

"I'm not hungry but I'll grab something soon, I promise," said Hermione, already edging away from the older witch, itching to start her daily routine.

Madam Pomfrey only offered a small frown, for she had begun to worry at how thin Hermione was becoming. But she didn't push, she knew the young woman was no longer a child and couldn't be forced to eat.

So the mediwitch continued to mark her charts and administer the morning potions while Hermione made her well-traveled route to Professor Snape's bedside.

Hermione pulled forward the old metal stool by his bed, left for visitors, but in truth, Hermione was the only one who had sat there, the only one who cared enough to visit with him. She settled atop it, carefully observing his quiet sleeping form.

She watched him with open, unguarded curiosity. Until his coma, she never was afforded many opportunities to really look at him, not without a threat of detention or point loss. And except for the night in her third year, when he saved her from Remus, they had never shared any type of intimate touch. In the intervening years, they had barely even made eye contact.

Yet now, she watched and touched and cared for him everyday. She cleaned his wounds, wrapped his bandages, washed his face with a warm washcloth. She held his hand and read to him. She chatted and talked softly to him, sharing every thought that passed through her mind without worry of talking to much or overstaying her welcome.

It felt so odd, so very peculiar to get to be this close to him. To touch him, smooth his hair from his white face, cradle his large hand in her own small one. It felt so intimate, so forbidden. Even if he couldn't feel any of it, which he most likely couldn't, she could and it made her feel close to him, connected to one another in some deep, unspeakable way.

As silly as it was to think, these private moments were precious to her and brought her some small measure of comfort. Just feeling his body, alive and whole, albeit weakened and inert, was a blessing. Something that she knew few others had seen and felt.

He was an intensely private man, well known to shun the company of others. And yet, she had him all to herself. It felt surreal and yet, it also felt natural and right. As if they had been friends for ages.

She discreetly pulled her hand from his own as Madam Pomfrey approached his bedside to run her morning diagnostics.

Hermione sat quietly, expectantly, hoping to hear some goes news. Madam Pomfrey watched her and felt that familiar sad ache, knowing that she had no good news to offer.

"Everything is still stable. The residual levels of venom are almost non-existent and his organ function is adequate. As I said, no one has ever survived this long after a venomous bite of this kind. This is uncharted territory. He might just need more rest, his body is trying its best to heal. Hopefully he'll wake soon. There's simply no way of knowing when," Madam Pomfrey offered with a small smile as she left his bedside to help another patient.

Hermione's heart sunk at the news but tried to keep her hopeful ship afloat with bright thoughts.

"Did you hear that, Professor? You just need a bit more rest, you'll be up and about in no time," she said, trying to convince herself more than anything.

She gathered a calming breath and stood, steeling her heart and mind for another day of hard work.

After helping Madam Pomfrey for a few hours, Professor Sprout stopped by asking Hermione's help in finding a clean space to restock her textbooks, all 300 of them.

Hagrid then wanted Hermione's help rounding up a few stray thestrals around the castle grounds, and Madam Pince wanted to know when Hermione planned on making some time to help work in the library.

Hermione felt pulled in a million directions as requests for help seemed to come from everywhere she looked. Everyone seemed to want a piece of her and she felt like she had none left to give.

 _~~~~0000~~~~_

As lunchtime approached, she ignored her growling stomach and headed to the dungeons to help Sirius brew yet another batch of healing potions for the castle. She felt emotionally and physically spent, but pressed on out of sheer will.

The animagus was twenty minutes late and came in whistling an old muggle tune, his upbeat mood and swagger immediately bothering her.

"Could you please stop whistling?", she snapped with apparent irritation as she started brewing another cauldron full of burn salve.

Sirius merely smiled benignly at her and said, "You seem awfully upset today, kitten. Is something bothering you?", he carefully asked.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm fine," she said sharply, focusing on the potion before her, looking to avoid the conversation.

Sirius merely stepped closer to her and pulled back her curtain of frizzy hair to look into her angry eyes.

"You can't fool me, young lady. Something's wrong. Tell me," he asked tenderly.

"Sirius, just leave it. I said I'm fine," she said, her eyes flashing anger, backing away from his comforting touch.

As she turned away to grab more mandrake root, he stepped directly in front of her to stop her work.

She blew out an angry breath and said "Move, Sirius."

"No," he answered, his arms crossed at his chest in defiance. "I'm not moving till you tell me what's wrong."

"Move, now. I have work to do," she said angrily, trying to push him aside and finish her potion.

"It can wait, talk to me," he said, seemingly rooted to the spot.

"No," she said stubbornly.

"Hermione," he said warningly. His patronizing tone caused her anger to bubble over like a boiling cauldron.

"No! I don't want to fucking talk about how I'm feeling! Alright?!" she shrieked, her voice ricocheting off the walls.

"I'm exhausted, is that what you want to hear?! Because I am. I'm sore and tired and I can't for the life of me seem to fix a single god damn thing around me! Is that what you want to hear?!", she yelled at the wizard before her.

"If that's how you're feeling, then yes. I do want to hear it," he answered calmly, his eyes softening.

She nodded and felt the tears spill from her red, tired eyes. She ran a rough hand through her hair and glared at her cauldron full of now burnt potion.

"I'm just so angry, Sirius. I'm so god damn angry! At everyone, at everything. Where the fuck are Harry and Ron?! Why aren't they here helping?! Why aren't things getting better, things should be better by now!", she raged as she angrily shoved her table full of ingredients to the floor with a deafening crash.

She gasped at the mess she made, her mind reeling at the pure rage that now quaked through her like a powerful storm, clouding her thoughts and heart.

"Did that help? Did that feel good?", Sirius asked calmy, observing her like a scientist eyeing a test subject, merely curious as to how she might respond next.

Her chest heaved with angry gasps, disbelieving what she just did. She looked at him, eyes wide with surprise and fear and she nodded.

He calmly picked up a large beaker full of purple liquid and threw it, full force, at the nearby wall, the thin glass exploding in an exquisite shower of glittering shards, it's liquid coating the stone wall. She only looked at him, mouth agape, completely shocked.

"Go on then, you throw something," he offered evenly, grabbing a line of vials off a side-table and handed them to her.

She looked at them in her hands and eyed Sirius with disbelief.

He nodded, giving her permission.

She threw them with all her might against the stone wall, watching with satisfaction as the vials burst and their colorful contents slowly slid to the floor.

He smiled at her and the pair proceeded to completely destroy the lab, knocking over, slamming, smashing and breaking everything they could get their hands on. In no time at all, the floor was covered with broken glass and every potion ingredient imaginable.

After they had decimated the small space, they slid to a heap onto the floor near the doorway, sweating and breathing hard from the exertion.

"Well, that was fun," Sirius said, taking in the destruction they had caused with some pride.

"Yes, it was," Hermione offered with a small smile, her racing heart finally calming.

Sirius leaned his head back against the door and eyed her a moment.

"I never pegged for the destructive type," he said cheekily.

"I've never done that before, but I just felt so...", she stopped not sure what made her do it.

"Fed up?", he offered.

She nodded realizing how overwhelmed and anguished she had felt the last few weeks. With responsibilities and to-do lists, with her sadness and anger and grief. She had bottled it all up, rather unwisely, and it blew up in a spectacular fashion.

"Yeah, I'm sure you did," he said, smiling kindly at her.

"I'm just so tired of dealing with all of this. This castle is still a complete disaster. So many people are still hurt, Professor Snape still hasn't recovered, everything is just...it's just...", she tried to articulate but failed.

"It's complete shit," he offered with a small smirk.

She offered a small smile in return and nodded, looking him in the eyes.

"I just thought we'd be further along by now. I thought I would've done more good," she stated rather defeatedly.

"You've always expected too much of yourself, love. Let's take it one thing at a time, shall we?", he asked, slowly standing and offering her a hand up. Once she was back on her feet, he pulled her into a warm hug.

She held him for a while, just enjoying the embrace and the strength it gave her.

"It's going to be alright, love. Just remember, you're not alone in this," he offered, stroking her hair affectionately.

She clutched him tighter and nodded against his chest, trusting him and his hopeful words.

She pulled away and he carefully dried her tears.

They pulled their wands out and slowly cleaned up the mess they had made, repairing the broken glassware and salvaging most of the ingredients.

Once the lab was set to right, the pair began brewing, working in companionable silence. Hermione worked diligently on several cauldrons of burn salve and blood replenishing potion while Sirius brewed the wolfsbaine potion for Remus' upcoming transformation.

The sun was soon setting in the late afternoon sky as they began to clean up yet again, this time having something worthwhile to show for all their mess.

As Hermione scourgified her cauldrons clean, she finally asked, "How's Remus doing?"

She knew that Teddy and Remus had moved into Grimmauld Place after the battle, upon Sirius' insistence. She knew the road to recovery would be long and hard for the wolf and he would need all the help he could get.

"He, um...he's trying. He's trying to pull it together, but it's hard, you know. He lost his wife, and he has an infant to raise on his own. It's not the best of circumstances," Sirius offered.

"At least he isn't facing this all on his own. He has Andromeda and most importantly, he has you," Hermione said with a warm smile as she bottled and labeled the last batch of healing salve.

Sirius offered a small smile as he washed his hands and dried them on his once crisp, black slacks.

"Well, speaking of Remus, it's time for me to head back home. Remus has had his hands full all afternoon with Teddy. I'm sure he could use a break by now," Sirius said.

"Would you like to come along? See Teddy? You could join us for a bit of dinner", he kindly offered.

She hadn't left the castle since the battle. Although it was a depressing place to be at the moment, she hadn't been able to tear herself away from Hogwarts. She justified it by citing the mountain of work that still lay ahead. But in truth, she felt nervous about leaving. The outside world suddenly seemed so daunting and overwhelming.

"Um, I don't know," she wavered. "I have lot to do this evening, I promised Madam Pince I would stop by the library and help with cataloging the salvageable books. And then I have some grounds work to do with Hagrid and ...", she offered with a worried frown but Sirius cut her off.

"Hermione, that can all wait, believe me. I know you haven't left this place since the final battle. C'mon, it would do you the world of good to get out of this place for a while," he said with a warm smile.

"I don't know, what if someone needs me while I'm gone?", she said nervously.

"We'll tell Madam Pomfrey you'll be out, she can Floo if she needs you. C'mon, love, it'll be fun. You can play with Teddy and I'll make us a nice pot roast," he offered.

"You can cook? Since when?", she asked, genuine curiosity taking over.

"Since never. Molly has been sending food for us for two weeks. I have become quite adept at warming things up," he said with a grin.

"Alright," she relented, "but only for an hour. There are plenty of things I have to do tonight," she said.

"Of course, kitten. One hour only and then I'm kicking you right out," he said with a smirk as he offered her her coat to slip on.

Together they left the dungeon lab and off they trudged through the broken, shattered castle. Most of the debris had been cleared away buy plenty still remained as they made their way to the Floo in the infirmary.

The smile that had graced her face just minutes before had faded from her lovely face as she took in the sight of her still ruined surroundings.

As they passed the broken remains of the Great Hall, she came to an abrupt halt. The enchanted ceiling and outer walls were still gone, the long, house tables lay off to the sides in large broken boards. The room that had bore witness to so many happy memories with her dear friends lay before her like a broken shell, devoid of all warmth and love.

Taking in her frown and halted stance, Sirius reached for and squeezed her hand, knowing how much her mind and heart ached.

"Don't worry, kitten. We're going to fix it all, just not all today," he said, catching her eyes for just a moment.

She smiled at him, appreciating just how much the older wizard understood her. Such a rare thing, she mused to herself, to be understood. She gripped his hand a bit tighter, glad to have a friend to rely on in the midst of all this mess.

"Thank you, Sirius. I certainly hope so," Hermione said, as she allowed him to pull her away from the wreckage. The pair walked in silence the rest of the way.

They entered a quiet infirmary as Neville and Luna were finishing the last rounds of potions and salves. Hermione promised to not be gone long but everyone only waved off her words and encouraged her to take her time.

As Sirius pulled her to the fireplace, she paused. She took a deep breathe as she dropped Sirius' hand and walked toward Professor Snape's bed. Sirius knew exactly where she was headed and let her go, noting with a small smile just how much time she seemed to bestow upon the potions master.

As she reached his bed, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching and bent close to her sleeping professor.

"I'm just going out for a bit. I'll be back soon," she said softly just as she had for three weeks, hoping her words might stir him from his deep slumber but her words caused no outward change in the man.

"Neville is here and has been tinkering in your private lab," she said with some mirth in her voice.

"He's mixed up quite a few interesting concoctions. He'd love to test them out on you, that is if you don't mind?", she said with a small smile.

Yet her dear professor lay perfectly still, her words electing no response at all.

"You could wake up while I'm gone, you know. I really wouldn't mind," she said softly.

She sighed wistfully and tenderly brushed his dark locks away from his forehead.

"Very well. I'll check in on you later," she quietly offered.

She stood and once again joined Sirius at the fireplace, the animagus had a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched her approach.

"What are you smiling about?", she asked nervously, worrying that Sirius could plainly see her heart on her sleeve.

They each grabbed a handful of Floo powder, preparing to depart.

"Nothing," said Sirius, still smiling at her. "You've got a good heart, Hermione. Better than most. It's kind of you to look after Severus like you have been. He's never known much kindness...," he said, his eyes momentarily dropping to the floor as he knew he was but one of many to contribute to Severus' plight.

"You're a good girl, you know. Much better than we deserve," he said, offering her a tender kiss on her forehead.

Hermione smiled and blushed at the compliment as she stepped into the Floo calling out 'Grimmauld Place', hoping that a quiet night with her dear friends would help buoy her sagging spirits.

However, a quiet night was not what was in store for the young witch.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** **Thank you also to all the lovely, fabulous readers who stopped by to leave a review, it's so kind of you to take the time to offer helpful ideas and encouragement. They seriously make my day! And I'm glad people are enjoying the story thus far. Your feedback is wonderful to receive, so thanks for reading & reviewing :)**

* * *

 _But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,_  
 _And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—_  
 _Open to me!_  
 _For I will show you the places Nobody knows,_  
 _And, if you like,_  
 _The perfect places of Sleep._

 _-E.E. Cummings_

As Hermione arrived at the ancient and noble house of Black and stepped out from the fireplace, her senses were immediately assaulted by the ear-splitting wails of one Teddy Lupin, who, from the looks of it, was having quite the rough day as well.

Laying flat in his back on a blanket in the middle of the library, seemingly alone, Hermione rushed to the screaming baby, as she pulled her wand at the ready. Years of tragedy had taught her to immediately fear the worst, so in her experience it always paid to be prepared. She immediately thought that Remus had to be hurt or missing for Teddy to be left alone wailing.

As she crouched next to Teddy, his face contorted and beet-red from crying, she gingerly picked him up and cradled him against her chest with one arm, and her wand held tight in the other.

However holding him proved to only enrage the boy all the more as his small arms began to thrash and flail with all their might. Trying valiantly to get a good hold on him, her eyes darted wildly around the room and fell upon a sad sight indeed.

Sitting in a corner, hunched over in a winged back chair, his head in his hands, was Remus. He, too, had been crying and looked completely broken and despondent.

"Remus, what's happened? Are you hurt? Is Teddy Hurt?", Hermione stepped towards him and tried asking but her voice was merely drowned out by the child's wails.

Remus didn't stir, not even an inch at the witch's words or his son's pleas.

A moment later the Floo lit up green as a smiling Sirius stepped out. His easy smile vanished in an instant, however, as he took in the scene before him.

To his credit, he froze for only a second before he was by Remus' side, kneeling before his dear friend.

"Remus, what's happened? What's wrong with Teddy?" Sirius asked, trying to stay calm and get Remus to look him in the eyes.

Finally coming out of his stupor, Remus lifted tired, sad eyes to meet Sirius'.

"I can't get him to stop crying," Remus admitted defeatedly.

"Andromeda dropped him off at lunchtime and he's been screaming ever since. I've tried a bottle, rocking, walking, singing, everything. Nothing's worked. So I just laid him down on a blanket. I didn't know what else to do," he offered sadly, as his tears of sadness and frustration took over once more, his body instinctively leaning into Sirius', knowing that comfort could always be found there.

"Hey, hey, that's alright," Sirius softly offered, as he gently rubbed Remus' back, his heart breaking at the anguish that Remus was feeling. Sirius silently cursed himself for leaving Remus on his own for so long, he should've come home sooner.

Sirius held him tightly, and motioned for Hermione to take Teddy in the hallway for a moment. Hermione closed the door behind her while discreetly casting a silencing charm to give the men some much needed quiet and privacy.

"I just...I don't think I can do this," Remus stated defeatedly. "I don't know how in the hell in going to raise him alone."

"You are not alone, do you hear me? I'm here, Remus. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere," Sirius offered, his eyes wide with concern.

"Teddy's not your responsibility and neither am I," Remus stated matter of factly, his voice full of hurt.

Sirius swallowed the anguish that threatened to take over his own heart. He rose and sat beside Remus, taking his warm hand in his own.

"Remus...I...you're my dearest friend, you're my only family. You and Teddy mean the world to me and I need you to know that you can count on me. I'm here, for as long as you need me," Sirius offered, his voice quiet and sincere.

Remus looked away, not bearing to trust Sirius' words or promises.

"Hermione and I, we're here now, everything is going to be fine. Okay? Remus? Look at me," Sirius commanded.

Remus reluctantly complied, pulling his tired eyes from the floor to look at Sirius.

"I'm here," said Sirius, cupping his friend's face, staring deeply into the wolf's grey eyes. "I've got Teddy now, okay? He's going to be fine," his words a blessed promise.

Remus seemed to breathe for the first time in hours as he finally let his body relax. He roughly wiped the tears from his weary eyes. Sirius carefully helped him stand and smiled warmly at him.

"Thank you, Sirius," Remus said softly, clutching Sirius' hand in his own.

"It's okay, Moony. Hermione and I will take care of things down here, why don't you head upstairs for a shower and some sleep. I'll save you some dinner," he said as he gently lead Remus out of the room, his son still raging in the hallway.

"I'm sorry, Sirius. I should've floo'd you earlier. I needed help," Remus sadly admitted.

"Remus, it's okay. We'll talk more later, alright? Go shower and rest for now, you'll feel better," said Sirius.

Remus swallowed hard and nodded, appreciating Sirius and his kind words more than he could say. He left the library, looking more tired and spent than Hermione had ever seen him.

As Remus caught sight of his screaming, inconsolable son, his face fell once more, feeling so helpless at the sight. He stepped forward to try once more to soothe him, but before he could pick Teddy up, Sirius grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him toward the stairs instead.

"Sirius, I feel calmer, I can try again," Remus offered, still looking uncertain and anguished.

"No," replied Sirius. "I've got this, I can do this," Sirius said, confident as ever. "You go get some sleep."

Remus reluctantly started up the steps, looking guilty yet grateful to be given a much needed break.

With Remus taken care of, Sirius shucked off his coat and rolled up his sleeves, preparing for battle as Teddy continued to put up quite the fight in Hermione's arms.

He stepped towards her and she gratefully relinquished the angry babe. Like a seasoned nanny, he laid Teddy back down on the blanket and expertly changed the boy's wet nappy, dressed him in a fresh clothes, and swaddled him snuggly in a downy soft blanket all the while singing in a soft voice.

" _London bridge, is falling down, falling_ _down, falling down._

 _London bridge is falling down, my fair lady."_

More than anything else he did, it was his deep, baritone voice that caught Teddy's attention and halted the high-pitched screams. The child now watched Sirius, mesmerized at the incredible sound emanating from the wizard's mouth.

 _"Build it up with iron bars, iron bars, iron bars._

 _Build it up with iron bars, my fair lady."_

Once swaddled and snug, Sirius pulled Teddy tightly against his strong chest, dimmed the house lights to a soft flicker, and began to walk back and forth along the long front hallway, singing the whole way. His rich voice filling the old, creaky house with warmth and love.

 _"Iron bars with bend and break, bend and break, bend and break._

 _"Iron bars will bend and break, my fair lady."_

After ten minutes of walking, Teddy finally gave up the fight and was lulled into a deep, peaceful sleep, the cumulative effect of rhythmic walking, snug warmth and the rumbling vibration of Sirius' quiet singing acting like a sleeping draught on the exhausted baby.

Hermione had quietly slipped in the kitchen and began heating up dinner while cleaning the dishes piled high in the sink. As Sirius' singing began to soften and his footfalls began to slow, she stood in the kitchen doorway and took in the sight before her with amazement.

Sirius Black, the eternal bachelor, the cad, the prankster, had just quieted a raging beast and Hermione was stunned by the sight.

As she turned to head back into the kitchen she happened to glance up and see Remus sitting at the top of the steps, his body cloaked in shadows from the dimmed candle light. His long legs tucked to his chest, he sat quietly watching Sirius as the animagus lovingly calmed and cared for his dear son. Remus' tired face rested on his knees as something indescribable shone in his eyes. Gratitude, solace and something else that Hermione couldn't quite place.

The wolf's grey eyes shimmered with unshed tears of relief and they never once left Sirius as he watched him work his extraordinary magic on the infant. The look on Remus' face was one of pure adoration as a small smile, so subtle she almost missed it, played across his face.

As Hermione caught his gaze, she smiled up at him and Remus smiled back at her, his first proper smile in weeks. He quietly stood from his private perch and headed off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that he wasn't alone in all this, he had all the support he could ever need from his dear friend.

As Teddy's breathing slowed and his whole body relaxed into Sirius, the wizard finally set the baby down in his bassinet in a small bedroom just off of the kitchen.

Hermione watched from the doorway, as Sirius kissed Teddy on the forehead and lowered him gently into his soft, sweet bed.

As they quietly tip-toed out of the room, Sirius gently closed the door as the pair headed to the kitchen for a well-deserved drink.

Sitting down to tumblers of fire whiskey and the pot roast that Hermione had warmed up, she couldn't help but stare at Siruis in awe.

As he drained his tumbler in a single gulp and began to tuck into the delicious roast, Sirius looked at her and said, "What? Do I have something on my face?", he asked with a grin.

"I just don't understand how you knew to do all that? That was incredible!", she quietly offered, clearly stunned and impressed by his paternal skill.

"You learned that from your mother?", she asked incredulously.

Sirius merely smirked at her suggestion.

"No, no," he said with a soft chuckle.

"Walburga never so much as changed a single wet nappy, let alone soothed us. No, I learned that from my nanny. She was a very kind, warm woman named Elsie. She cared for Regulus and I since we were born. I remember when Regulus was an infant he had severe crying bouts and she would always swaddle him tight, tight as could be, and sing to him. It always worked like a charm," he offered with a smile while taking a forkful of roast and pouring himself more whiskey.

"Well, you certainly have a gift with kids. Remus is very lucky to have you right now," she offered as his kindly patted his hand.

"I'm lucky to have him," he said, suddenly serious. "And Teddy, too. I love having them here and I'm glad I can help Remus for once. He's always had to be the adult, the level-headed one. It feels good, to be able to help him now. Take care of him when he needs it the most," Sirius said.

"You're a good friend," she said, smiling warmly as she ate her dinner.

"Yes, well...that's my job, isn't it?", he said with a small smile.

"Remus is just...struggling right now. He's going to bounce back. These things just take time. He misses Tonks and blames himself for her dying. That's a lot to carry around," he offered, knowing all too well the crushing weight of that particular kind of guilt.

"Indeed," offered Hermione.

"But he will get better. I'll make sure of it," said Sirius, confident as ever.

"Of course you will. He's got a lot to live for," she said.

"That he does, Teddy really is amazing," he said with warmth and love in his voice.

"Oh, of course Teddy, but also you, Sirius. He has you to live for," she said.

He only offered a small, tight smile.

"Well, that's what friends are for after all," he offered, standing suddenly as if he were upset, as he began to clear and clean their plates.

"I don't know. My two best friends have surreptitiously went off and started whole new lives in only a fortnight, without so much as a backwards glance in my direction," Hermione offered, the whiskey and exhaustion catching up with her.

"Oh, kitten, they're both just hurt and grappling with a lot themelsves. Ron lost a brother, believe me, that's not an easy thing to come to terms with," Sirius said.

"And Harry...Harry has some growing to do. He hasn't had the easiest of lives and now he feels like he's finally free. Of curses, expectations, obligations. He finally feels untethered, like a caged bird spreading their wings for the first time," he said.

"Just give them both some time, they'll come back to you," he said.

"Perhaps. Or maybe not, they might just keeping on walking in their own directions and I'll still be here...sweeping up the mess they left behind," she said, feeling the tears suddenly wetting her cheeks.

He stopped his cleaning and immediately sat down with her, taking her in his arms.

He let her cry for a long time before saying anything, her quiet sobs the only sound filling the old kitchen.

"I know, love. It's damn hard being the strong one, isn't it?", he asked while he held her tight, soothing her tears away.

"You remind me so much of Remus. Always the responsible one, everyone counts on you. It must be hard being that strong all the time," he said.

"Yes. It is," she quietly admitted.

"Yes," he nodded sadly, "I'm sure it is."

"I honestly don't know how Remus stayed so strong all those years on his own. We left him with quite a mess, too, you know. James and Lily were gone, I was in Azkaban, Peter had everyone believing he was dead. And there was poor Remus, all alone," Sirius said, his voice tightening with emotion, his gaze far away as Hermione sat up to look at him.

"It must've been soul-crushing, to not have a single, damn bright spot in his life," Sirius said, looking pointedly at his shoes.

"You know, when I was finally cleared of any wrong doing, everyone asked me how I made it through Azkaban, how I survived that place with my mind intact. And the answer was simple. It was Remus," he said, now looking right at Hermione.

"I had the knowledge that Remus was alright. I had that thought with me for twelve years and it kept me from falling over the edge. He was my only happy thought, but it was powerful enough to sustain me, even in my darkest moments. I knew I still had my dearest friend, my only...," his words trailing off.

"And yet...in all those twelve years, poor Remus didn't have anything. James and Lily were dead, Peter was gone and I was a traitorous murderer, or so he must have thought. How sad...how heartbreakingly sad. He didn't even have the notion or promise of a friend. He didn't have anything at all...and yet he persevered. Talk about amazing," Sirius said with tears freely streaming down his cheeks.

He wiped them away as Hermione squeezed his hand in her own, knowing the depth of his pain wasn't something that he freely or frequently shared. She felt honored that he would share so much with her, deign to be so honest and vulnerable in her presence.

He smiled at her and took a deep, steadying breath.

"Things were dark for a very long time, Hermione. It's okay to not feel happy right now. Be pissed, be livid. Feel angry and jealous and heartbroken. You've earned it. You've lost a lot, we all have. But just remember, this won't break you. You're stronger than you realize. As a very wise muggle once said 'This too shall pass.'"

"Time will heal these broken things, trust me," he said, sounding so certain. "Good things lay ahead, we just have to be patient."

She nodded, praying that he was right. She dried her eyes, feeling tired and emotionally spent. Yet beneath all that raw, pulsing emotion she felt something different, she felt a small flicker of hope, like a single candle light shining strong and true against all the stunning darkness. It warmed her heart and soul to know that she wasn't the only one holding out hope for happiness and peace.

"Thank you, Sirius. You're a wonderful man, we're all lucky to have you," she said, smiling.

"It's nothing, love. You're the wonderful one, and don't think people don't know it," he said, giving her a sweet kiss on her forehead.

She smiled at his kind words, unaccustomed to hearing such praise.

"I should really get going. It's getting late and I still have a lot left to do this evening," she said standing on tired legs.

"Alright, but before you go, come with me," he said, gently taking her hand and pulling her back through the kitchen as he paused outside Teddy's room.

He gently opened the door and led her by the hand to his small crib.

He stopped beside it and together they smiled down at the sweet, sleeping child before them. Thick, brown eyelashes rested against his rosy, full cheeks. His pouted pink lips, parted slightly as he smiled in his sleep, dreaming happy thoughts. His chest rose and fell with ease, all was right in his world.

Sirius reached down and smoothed the baby hairs off his forehead, his gentle, soothing touch causing Teddy to let out a little sigh of contentment.

"Don't you see?", he whispered. "Hope is everywhere, Hermione. All around us, in fact. We just have to open our eyes," he said softly, never taking his gaze off of Teddy.

She stepped forward and pulled Sirius in for a sweet kiss on his scruffy cheek and whispered back, "Thank you, Sirius. For everything."

He smiled warmly at her and gave her a small nod.

"You take care of yourself, Hermione. I'll see you tomorrow," he said, still watching Teddy, entranced by his lovely, sleeping form.

She left the pair in quiet peace as she smiled to herself, walking to the library fireplace to Floo back to Hogwarts. Watching Sirius Black, head over heels in love, was a wonderful sight to behold. If that didn't give her some hope, then nothing could.

 _~~~~0000~~~~_

She had been gone much longer than she realized as she stepped back through the fireplace into the infirmary. The large, sterile room was quiet and dark, the only light coming from the soft moonlight streaming through the tall, cracked window. The patients were all sleeping and even Madam Pomfrey had turned in for the evening.

She headed straight for Professor Snape's bed and sat down with him, taking his cold, pale hand in her own.

She sat quietly for a long time, simply watching him breathe, wondering and waiting. She finally found the courage to speak.

"Am I foolish for hoping that you'll get better? For hoping that you could maybe...love me. As I've loved you?", she asked her professor quietly.

"I must be," she said softly, "I simply must be." She tilted her head back to stop the onslaught of tears as she shook her head at her own silly heart.

"Are you letting go, Severus?", she asked, surprised at how his name sounded coming from her lips.

"Is there nothing here for you? Nothing to live for? Nothing at all?", she asked quietly.

"I hope...I hope that maybe...I might be reason enough for you," her tears falling and wetting her cheeks.

She bit her lip as she internally debated what to do. She sat and carefully weighed the pros and cons and finally threw reason to wind as she gave in and simply listened to her heart instead of her head for once. She bent forward and lightly brushed her lips against his. Remembering how soft and warm they felt, how sweet they tasted, she swallowed hard at the wellspring of emotions that surged through her.

She could hope, couldn't she? Secretly, privately, maybe even selfishly. In those moments right before drifting off to sleep or just before she fully woke up, she could revel in the simple joy of being hopeful. Hopeful that one day he would not only awaken but also learn to love her just she much as she loved him. Her life had been, and still was, full of serving others, perhaps she could selfishly allow herself this one thing. This one small ray of light to see her through the darkness.

She reluctantly released his hand, smoothed his blanket and stood. She slowly made her way out of the infirmary, her heart heavy with so many complicated emotions, yet it was that heaviness that brought her some hope. For after all, it meant that she could still feel, still be capable of love and loss, passion and devotion. That she could feel so deeply, hurt so acutely, gave her hope that maybe life wasn't done with her just yet.

As she quietly left and shut the heavy infirmary doors, Severus Snape slowly opened his tired, weary eyes, looking in vain for the one who had brought him forth from his deep, dark sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hello, faithful readers :) As promised, here is chapter 6, containing all new material. I will try to continue to post every Sunday but if life happens to get in the way, know that I might miss a Sunday here or there.**

 **Hope this one is enjoyed. As always, a huge thanks to everyone who stops by for a read. And of course, hugs, kisses and chocolate cake to the all the lovelies who have been kind enough to offer a review. Special thanks to _pianomouse_ , _orlando switch,_ _Ranna's_ Heart, _Lilly flower forever_ and _DutchGirl01_ for the great feedback on my rewrites, it helps so much to know that my writing is improving. ****You guys truly are fabulous. Take care & happy Sunday!**

* * *

 _Exists no miracle mightier than this: to feel._

 _― E.E. Cummings_

He had been dreaming for quite some time now, and he idly wondered when he might wake up. He felt like he was walking through a story book, his tired feet carrying him across the well-worn pages as thoughts and feelings, memories and wishes all pieced themselves together in a jumbled narrative.

He saw his mother, lying on the kitchen floor crying softly, her left eye swollen shut, while his tall, imposing father towered over her, a leather belt clutched in his angry fist.

He saw Lily as a young girl, reading beneath the old oak tree in the field behind her house. The spring breeze gently playing with her soft, auburn locks, she looked up at him, smiling.

He saw Potter and Black laughing as they charmed his desk chair to bite him.

He saw himself receiving the dark mark from Tom Riddle, his stomach lurching at the blinding pain that tore through him. Tom only laughed at the pain it caused him.

He was reliving his whole miserable life, it would seem, frame by frame.

And then he felt himself slide into a very odd memory, one he hadn't recalled in many years.

It was the night Lupin transformed without his final dose of wolfsbane and damn near killed him, Potter, Weasley and Miss Granger. How reckless that bastard had been. Once a marauder, always a marauder, he thought ruefully. He felt such palpable anger clench his gut as the memory unfolded in his mind.

Finding the golden trio outside of the shack, hot rage tore through him at how careless the three had been. Not only hexing him into unconsciousness but blindly, faithfully following a werewolf and a criminal into the night. How he wanted to wring each of their necks for their foolishness.

Of course, this sort of nonsense was to be expected from Potter and Weasley, the pair were thoughtless and incorrigible, it simply couldn't be helped. But why Miss Granger had done it truly baffled him and he realized, with not a small bit of surprise, that it was she that he was most angry at. She could've been killed by following those two imbeciles, he thought with such white hot anger.

But as he turned to shield the trio from Lupin, he felt his anger fade now and he felt warmth suffuse his chest as he recalled how Miss Granger had clung to him, sought protection and comfort from him. Her small fingers digging into him, clinging to him, her small frame trembling with fear as she held onto him for dear life.

Although it was he who had saved her, comforted her, he too felt oddly at ease as she held him, so eagerly and gratefully seeking out his touch. She wasn't frightened or repulsed by him, far from it by the way she held him, and he honestly found it puzzling. Precious few had ever sought him out and yet here she was, holding him with all her might. The ferocity with which she clutched him took his breath away.

As Lupin and Black disappeared and the immediate threat passed, he quietly marveled at the young woman still glued to his back. She could've backed away, sought out her two friends, but she didn't. She chose to stay with him, leaning against him, seeking him with both hands, resting her sweet face against him. Her ragged breath warming his back, even through his thick robes.

This young, innocent, pure girl had taken comfort from him; a beast, an unworthy, horrible monster. Why she did it, he couldn't say for sure. Fear perhaps, or maybe desperation. Whatever the reason, he found himself oddly grateful for it. She had deemed him worthy of her embrace, of bearing her vulnerability before him and that alone, that simple offering of trust and respect filled him with something akin to wonder, which was something Severus Snape was quite unaccustomed to feeling.

He turned his face to see her cowering behind him and as she lifted her head he remembered how struck he was by her dark, beautiful eyes. He had never been this close to her before and staring deeply into the cinnamon brown orbs, he felt like he was seeing her, really, truly seeing her, for the very first time.

Wide with fear, her eyes shone out bright as they reflected the full moon above. But there was something remarkable about them, something curious and intriguing, like a puzzle or impossible riddle, holding exquisite secrets that begged to be explored and discovered.

They were also kind and warm, like deep, swirling pools of dark caramel, seemingly bottomless in their depths. He remembered how much, in that very moment, that he wanted to protect her and shield her from life's pains. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

Suddenly his dream threw him forward to the night of the final battle and thoughts of Lily came unbidden. Her smile, her words of warning, the kiss she gave him, full of sadness and regret. He ached, physically so, at the memory.

He then found himself recalling the mysterious woman who had saved him. This memory had to have been a hallucination, for that woman was so kind, so warm. Her soft, lilting voice, her tender touch redolent with such concern. He remembered his eyes closing, and could have sworn he felt her warm, soft lips touch his own. Surely his mind was playing tricks on him.

Then, as if yanked out of a deep water, he felt himself being pulled from the dark abyss of sleep as he coughed roughly, his chest ratting with the effort as his eyes began to slowly, painfully flutter open.

~~~~0000~~~~

Her worn, dirty sneakers were moving on their own accord, carrying her back to her unmade bed, thoughts of to-do's and must be done's swirling about her cluttered mind.

She felt buoyed, her heart just a touch lighter than it had been only a few hours ago. Tomorrow would be a good day, she vowed to herself. She would get more done, be more helpful, start rebuilding. Things were going to turn around, she could feel it.

She walked at a brisk pace, eager to get back to her warm bed and get at least a few hours of sleep, before the sun rose again. Her quick pace was temporarily halted though as she stopped to pause before her favorite tapestry.

It hung outside of Gryffindor tower and it had always been her favorite. It depicted a wood nymph, clothed in a diaphanous blue gown, a crown of wild flowers gracing her wind-blown curls. She was smiling, her rosy cheeks aglow as she chased her heart's desire, a dark, shining knight.

It was one of the few tapestries in the castle that was not singed or outright destroyed. Although caked with dirt and in need of some mending at the edges, it was still intact, still whole. She ran her hand carefully along the woven hem, the magical imprint still strong and humming, the lithe nymph still merrily teasing her brooding knight with coy smiles and Hermione smiled at the sight.

She turned away to enter Gryffindor tower, but something stopped her. Alone in the quiet hallway, she felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to return and see Professor Snape. She felt almost physically pulled toward him.

She knew it was foolish, for she had just seen him, just touched him, just kissed him, for merlin's sake. And yet she knew she had to return.

She silently turned on her heel and quickly made her way back to the infirmary, her heart suddenly beating fast. Her palms were sweating as she quietly pushed open the heavy door to peer inside, expecting to see nothing unusual.

All was quiet as she stealthily glided to his bedside and when she stepped around his privacy screen she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight that greeted her.

Slowly blinking, swallowing hard, her dear professor was now awake, or at least trying valiantly to head in that direction.

She rushed to his side, her heart pounding out of her chest with pure joy and pulled his hand into her own, feeling such relief at the beautifully sight.

"Oh my god, you're awake," she said quietly, breathless with joy, clutching his hand.

He blinked and blinked again, seemingly unable to focus his eyes. She sat down beside him on his bed, wanting desperately to be near him.

His free hand slowly stretched up to carefully touch her warm face. His black eyes, barely open, met hers and his brow knitted in confusion.

"Is it you? Is it really you?", he asked as his thumb traced a slow, tender line across her cheek. The deliberate, thoughtful touch made her heart shudder.

"I love you," he said, quietly.

Her mind reeled and her heart swelled with delight at his words. He had remembered her saving him, he simply must have.

Her breath hitched as he pulled her closer to him and his lips took hers, claimed them with passion and tenderness. She gasped at the contact, his lips so surprisingly forceful and possessive, his touch so soothing and comforting.

She pulled back ever so slightly, completely stunned, her hand resting on his rising chest, her body flush against his.

He sighed deeply, his hand still rubbing her cheek, his eyes closed from the extraordinary effort.

He settled his head back onto his pillow, a small smile gracing his lips. She sat up before him, absolutely dumbfounded.

She touched her fingers tentatively to her lips, unable to fathom that he had really just kissed her. Her chest heaved with each rapid beat of her racing heart.

"Oh Lily, my sweet Lily, I thought I had lost you," he softly murmured.

Hermione's heart plummeted into her toes at his quiet declaration. Her breath caught and seized painfully in her chest, as she watched him slip back into a deep slumber.

 _Lily? He thought I was Lily. He... He didn't want to kiss me. He thought he was kissing Lily._

The exhaustion, the acute heartache, the sorrow and resignation that settled firmly in her chest, left her completely spent.

She dropped her weary, spinning head into her scarred hands, her bitter tears falling gracelessly onto her stained clothes.

She slid to the floor, not bearing to share even an inch of his bed. Hugging her knees to her chest, she rocked silently and sat there crying for a long time, spending every last tear.

As her tears dried on her cheeks and her body went slack with exhaustion, she laid down on the cold, stone floor. Lacking the strength and courage, she found she could neither bear to look at him nor bear to leave his side. So she had to settle for a middle ground of simply laying beside his bed, existing in a terrifying limbo of relief and anguish.

 _He's awake. That's all that matters. That's...that's what's important. Not my silly heart._

The last thought she had before succumbing to sleep was what a damn fool she had been to let her hopes soar so high, her heart taken along with them to unattainable heights.

She awoke a few short hours later, the sun just starting to peek over the distant mountaintops.

Her head pounding with each heart beat, she stood on shaky legs, every muscle aflame after sleeping on the hard, unrelenting floor. She settled into the metal chair beside his bed, roughly rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she took in his sleeping form.

She let her mind wander and smiled bitterly at the previous night's events. In all her fantasies about the man, she had always thought about the happiness, the pure joy at having him, how he would taste, how his body would feel against hers. She held those lovely, hopeful thoughts deep inside, like a shield against all the sadness that existed around and inside her. If she was just faithful enough, dedicated enough, one day, she thought, one day she would have him. He could learn to love her just as she had loved him.

But she forgot about Lily, the depths of his love for the woman was something she had simply discounted. She now realized that his heart may not be up for grabs as she had so foolish presumed. It would seem it was already clearly spoken for.

She felt her throat burn and tighten as tears well-up once more but she studiously fought them back as he began to shift and stir in his sleep. She sat up a bit taller, watching him with rapt attention. Given how out of it he was the previous evening, she wasn't sure what to expect this morning.

He awoke slowly, his eyes fluttering and closing several times before finally remaining open. He drew a deep breath, as she watched and waited.

Although the infirmary was dimly lit with early morning light, Severus' eyes burned and watered at the light that now assaulted his weakened form. He thought for a blessed moment that Lily had been mistaken and that he had indeed died, but as he took in the familiar room, full of sleeping patients and the repulsive smell of ditany and wormwood hit him square in the face, he knew he had indeed survived.

Oh, how his heart broke at this tremendous thought. He didn't want to live anymore, he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes, once and for all, and be done with this tiresome existence. As he sighed and closed his eyes, wishing this world away, he heard a voice that stopped his retreat.

"Professor, can you hear me?"

That voice, it was so familiar. Where had he heard it before? His eyes still closed, he could not for the life of him remember It was warm and careful, full of worry by the sound of it. Yet the sound of it brought him comfort. He opted to open his eyes and solve the mystery.

 _Miss Granger...of course_ , he mused to himself, taking in the sight of her sitting before him.

How could he not place her voice? After seven years of hearing it, he would've thought he knew it by heart. And yet it now sounded so very different. Warmer and softer than he remembered it. So foreign and yet so familiar and comforting.

He looked at her and then slowly scanned the room, his face contorting in pain and confusion.

"I'm...alive?", he asked slowly, his eyes searching her face for answers.

"Indeed you are, sir," she offered softly, scooting her chair closer to observe him, simply be near him.

"How... How did I...?", but his voice broke off as a coughing fit took hold and shook his weakened body like a earthquake.

She watched with some alarm and quicky grabbed a glass off of his bedside table and cast an _Aguamenti_ to fill it with cool water.

At his side in an instant, she immediately cupped the back of his head and gently brought his head up so his lips could more easily reach the cup before him.

He gratefully drank the cool water and as she carefully laid his head back down, and gently smoothed the hair from his face, he looked at her with open curiosity.

The intimacy and ease with which she helped him, touched him, left him wondering as to why she would freely take such liberties with him.

She took in his questioning look and she knew the move had made him feel uncomfortable. She realized with some sadness that although she had grown accustomed to touching him, helping him, it was something that was completely foreign to the man lying before her.

She carefully schooled her features to dampen her concern, mask the depths that her heart cared. She tried with all her might not to let her disappointment show.

"Try not to speak sir, you've been in a coma for quite some time. Your body is still very weak. You only awoke just last night. Do you...do you remember awakening last night?" she asked, wondering if he recalled kissing her.

"No, I...don't," he answered truthfully. It worried him greatly to think he couldn't recall being awake.

She offered a small smile, knowing that at least they could avoid any unnecessary awkwardness. Yet a small part of her had wished that he had remembered.

"How...how long have I been like this?", he finally asked.

"Three weeks, sir," she answered.

"Three...weeks?", he asked disbelieving.

"Yes, the final fight was three weeks ago and you've been unconscious ever since," she offered.

"But I was...bitten...how did I survive?", he asked.

"Do you remember the final battle at all?", she asked.

He nodded, recalling the horrible events of that night.

"Nagini bit me and I remember seeing Potter and then everything went black. And then I saw...", he trailed off, his mind recalling how he saw Lily, how he had kissed her. His heart sunk recalling the memory and he lay quietly for several beats.

"You saw what, sir?", she asked, looking puzzled at his sudden halt.

"Nothing. Nothing important," he offered.

"But then I...I awoke sometime later. And someone was attending to me. That's all I can remember," he said, choosing to omit the fact that he seemed to be remembering things that couldn't have possibly happened.

"But my memory feels...unreliable. I'm not sure I'm remembering things correctly at the moment," he said.

"Given the nature and severity of your injury, some memory loss is expected. Your memories should fully return as you heal," she offered.

"So how is it I ended up here?", he asked.

"Yes, well, um... you were brought back here," she vaguely offered, skipping over the details, "and Madam Pomfrey was able to neutralize the poison. But it obviously took several weeks for your body to heal," she said.

As he lay silently absorbing this information, she pressed on.

"We won, sir. Harry defeated Voldemort," she said, smiling now and answering the question that was lingering in his jet black eyes.

He swallowed hard at the thought that Voldemort was really gone. His mind reeled at this new information, scarcely able to grasp what this all meant.

"Then why am I here? Why have I not been taken to Azkaban and charged?", he asked looking more confused than afraid.

"You have been charged but Harry and I have put in a motion for clemency on your behalf with the Wizengamot," she answered.

"As soon as the battle was done, Harry and I made sure to have you recover here while the Wizengamot reviewed the evidence in support of your innocence. Only those closest to Hogwarts know of your presence here and they have been sworn to secrecy by the headmistress."

"You're telling me the ministry just let me stay here?", he asked, disbelievingly.

"Well, I do believe they required a bit of convincing from the headmistress. But with your health in question and many death eaters still on the loose, the ministry still had their hands full. They figured you couldn't cause much trouble while in a coma," she offered with a small smile.

"Then I will be sent to Azkaban after I'm found guilty," he said with an air of resignation.

"No, sir, not if we have anything to say about it," she stated matter of factly.

"The memories you gave Harry will help prove your innocence. We've shared them with Headmistress McGonogall and she has lent her full support to the cause, as have the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix. The Wizengamot meets tomorrow to make their official ruling based on the memories we've submitted. We're confident that you will be cleared," she said resolutely.

"I do not deserve to be acquitted of the charges. I don't even deserve to be here," he said, as angry tears filled his eyes.

"Sir, we would've never won without you. Harry would have never made it this far without your help. You must know that. You've selflessly sacrificed your safety on countless occasions. Working as a double agent, one can only imagine the danger you've faced. All the times you helped Harry, watched over him. He knows what you've done, everyone does. You're a hero."

"Don't call me that! I'm no such thing!", he spat angrily, suddenly looking so very tired.

She tried to steel herself against his wrath. She took a calming breath and kept her gaze steady, not flinching at his harsh voice.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm only relaying how the wizarding world is taking the news of your survival and the information obtained from your memories," she said calmly, bravely holding his angry gaze.

"You've seen all the memories I gave to Mr. Potter? And you've shared them?", he asked, his tone becoming sharper with each syllable.

"I thought I was dying when I gave those to Potter. They were private, they were not meant to be shared," he said his eyes filled with anger and embarrassment.

"Yes, sir, of course...but without them we wouldn't have the evidence we need to help clear your name," she said, trying to explain her good intentions.

"And what makes you think my name deserves clearing?", he asked, his voice full of rage.

She wanted to enumerate every single thing he had done to save her, Harry, the whole damn world, in fact. But she knew her reasons would simply fall on deaf ears so she opted for silence.

"Hmm? Cat have your tongue, Miss Granger? What have I ever done to you or anyone else that makes me worthy of anything less than a Dementor's kiss?", he spat.

"I'm a terrible man. I've committed unthinkable horrors. Whatever fanciful notions you've concocted about me, let me assure you, they are all false. Those memories you have are only a small snippet of me. You know absolutely nothing about me," he spat, her face crumpling with despair.

"I've shown nothing but pure vitriol to you and everyone you hold dear. I'm no damn good, Miss Granger, do you understand me?", he said, his own eyes full of anguish and self-disgust.

"I respectfully disagree, sir," she said, tears filling her own eyes, staring deeply into his own.

He cast a critical eye over the young woman, she looked so weakened and frail, like a neglected child. Her nails had dirt crusted beneath them, her hair was frizzy and dull, and her skin looked paper thin and pale, like old parchment that could be torn apart by a strong breeze. He felt such inexplicable sadness at seeing her brought so low.

She looked terrible, truth be told, every inch of her body bearing witness to the hardship she had faced this past year.

Everywhere that is, except her eyes.

They shone bright and kind, just as always, full of knowledge and intuition. He sighed slightly, secretly relishing the truth that not everything in this world could be tainted by darkness. Even at their weakest, which surely Miss Granger was, he realized with some surprise that some people were too pure, too kind and good-hearted to be brought low.

He couldn't bear to look at her eyes and feel their warmth. He was undeserving of such kindness, such beauty.

"Of course you disagree, how typical of you," he sneered, hating himself anew at how he was treating her.

"Leave me alone, Miss Granger. Let me rest in peace before they cart me off to meet my doom," he said, his eyes averted, dismissing her with his customary sneer.

"Of course, sir," she said, her voice sounding so pitifully small, feeling very much like a small child being sent to her room.

"No, wait," he said, as she began to walk away.

She halted and turned to face him, worried at what he had to say.

"You will first withdrawal all evidence in support of my case from the Wizengamot, those memories will be returned to me. I do not want them used for my defense," he said, his voice resolute.

"But sir, if they are removed from your defense, we won't have much evidence supporting your innocence," she offered, looking torn apart.

"Good. I'm not innocent. And I don't need you saying anything to the contrary, have I made myself clear?", he said, his eyes full of rage, looking every bit the domineering, cruel man she knew so well.

Her throat seized with anguish, the burning tears just barely being held back, she could only nod, before turning on her heel.

As she reached the door, she heard his voice once more.

"I really shouldn't have been saved, Miss Granger. It was a waste of everyone's time," he offered, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Rushing from the infirmary, she shut the door firmly behind her and sunk to the floor. As she began to cry, her body heaving from the effort, she felt embarrassment, anger and most of all grief. She realized that although he had survived, he could never be hers. The love she felt for him would be her burden alone to carry. Her heart seemed to crack wide apart as that sad fact settled deep within her.

Sitting alone in the dirty hallway, she felt alone and so very defeated. What had she really expected? For him to awaken and suddenly be kind, warm, appreciative? She realized with some anger and embarrassment that she had indeed expected all those things. All of those things and more, in fact. She now could see that what she wished for was impossible. The disappointment she felt was her own damn fault, her foolish heart betraying her.

As she stood on weary legs, she wanted nothing more than to head back to her own bed and sleep for an eternity, or at least until all of her problems disappeared, whichever came first.

But as she looked outside and eyed the beautiful morning sky, turning brilliant shades of pink and violet, she remembered Sirius' words, "Hope is everywhere, all around us in fact. We only have to open our eyes."

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and let go of her sorrow and anger, knowing that Sirius had indeed been right. Professor Snape was alive and awake, and that was amazing in and of itself and for now, it simply had to be enough. As much as her heart ached at his harsh words, as much as she longed to give up and walk away from him, she knew she wouldn't, couldn't. She knew that if she truly loved him, she would do everything within her power to give him peace and a lasting freedom. And that was just what she intended to do.

Her heart resolute and her mind clear, she wiped her eyes, smoothed her hair and stood up tall and proud, and began to head purposefully towards the owlery, her mind already busy composing the several letters she needed to send.

Professor Snape's trial was less than a day away and if she couldn't rely on his memories as evidence than she really had her work cut out for her. If she was going to clear his name, she going to need all the help she could get. Fortunately for her, she knew just who to ask.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: My sincerest apologies for the long delay in updating.** **Many thanks to all of you for the continued support, especially the reviews. I can not adequately express how much each and every one of them means to me :)**

 **Special thanks to guest reviewer _Jimmy P_ for reminding me to get off my lazy butt and update this. And a very special shout-out to _SpencerHastings2011_ for all the encouragement. She helped remind me just how wonderful  & supportive this community can be and how much I appreciate having this place to share my writing. **

**Sincerely, every dear soul who has offered some sweet words of encouragement, know that each of you are a true treasure, you are a voice of kindness and positivity in a world full of snark and bitterness. You are the reason fanfics exist at all, you are the reason we write.**

 **I hope** **you all are doing well & I hope you enjoy this chapter. Take care & ****Happy Sunday :)**

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 _"Trust your heart if the seas catch fire,_

 _live by love though the stars walk backward."_

 _― E.E. Cummings_

Pressure, it can yield incredible things. Given adequate time and the right circumstances, moderate pressure can change a lump of coal into a diamond. Something worthless can be made precious. But when faced with inordinate pressure and little time, even the strongest substance can be compromised, even ruined, their fissures and weaknesses laid bare against an unrelenting force. This is the moment when the feeble are separated from the formidable.

With only a single day to launch an effective defense for one of the wizarding world's most notorious criminals, most would have buckled under the intense pressure, giving up before they even got started.

But Hermione was no ordinary witch. When faced with an insurmountable limit, she only dug in deeper, summoning strength and resiliency seemingly out of thin air. For in the course of twelve short hours, aided by her dear friends, Hermione had done the unthinkable; she had culled together enough evidence to create a seemingly effective defense strategy, with close to a dozen witnesses lined up in support of the notorious Severus Snape.

The day flew by in a flurry of planning, gathering of witnesses and conferencing with Harry, Luna, Neville, McGonagall, Remus and Sirius, all packing themselves into the Grimmauld kitchen until late in the night. After going over the battle plan one last time, gathering her many notes and documents, Hermione felt sufficiently prepared. They were ready for battle.

As they neared the midnight hour, they all began heading home for some much needed rest. Luna and Neville departed for Hogwarts while Remus checked in on Teddy, who had been sleeping peacefully for several hours. Sirius began straightening up the kitchen while Minerva sat quietly chatting with Hermione.

"Thank you so much for all of your help today, Headmistress. We could've never lined up so many witnesses without your considerable influence," Hermione said with a smile despite the pure exhaustion that plagued her.

"Think nothing of it, dear. I'm happy to help such a worthwhile endeavor," the older witch said graciously.

"Headmistress, I know it's late and you need to return to school, but I wanted to wait until we had some privacy. There is something I wanted to ask you before you left," Hermione said, looking suddenly nervous.

"Dearest, I do believe you can call me Minerva now," she offered with a warm smile. Hermione smiled at the offer.

"Very well... Minerva," she said, the name feeling so very foreign on her tongue. "If you don't mind me asking, how was Professor Snape today?", her eyes wide with worry.

Although they had spent the entire day talking about the past actions of Severus Snape, there had been no time to discuss how he was fairing in the present. Her head focused solely on gathering testemonies and witnesses, Hermione had dutifully shut out all worry and concern until she had a handle on her defense strategy. Sitting here now at the end of the long day, feeling prepared and mostly ready to face the Wizengamot in the morning, Hermione finally allowed herself the luxury of worrying about him and was anxious to hear how he was actually doing since she left him that morning.

"Poppy said his body is healing, doing remarkably well, in fact, given the strain it has been put under. But his legs and right arm are still quite weak. She believes he'll need some physical therapy coupled with some more advanced muscle and bone strengthening potions in order to regain full use of his limbs. It'll be a long road to recovery. A road that I hope to see him traverse. With your help tomorrow, Hermione, I believe we will be able to do just that," Minerva said with a genuine smile.

"I hope that as well, Minerva, I truly do," Hermione offered in earnest. "Has he said anything today? He was quite...upset when I left the infirmary this morning," Hermione remarked, still anguished at having seen him brought so low.

"He's refused to speak to anyone. Poppy tried several times today as did I, but he simply ignored us. Stared straight at the ceiling. But that's simply Severus. He's always been a bit reserved, as I'm sure you can imagine," Minerva with a sad smile.

Hermione nodded sadly, having hoped for some better news but had been expecting that answer, nonetheless.

"What did he say to you when he awoke this morning?" Minerva asked.

"Just that he didn't want his memories used in his defense and that he didn't deserve to be alive let alone go free. He seemed quite resigned to live out his remaining days in Azkaban," Hermione stated sadly as Remus returned to the kitchen to help Sirius at the sink.

"Typical Severus. Refusing all offers of help, preferring to suffer in silence rather than rely on someone else. Honestly, though, I'm not surprised he feels the way he does. He must carry quite a bit of guilt, not only for the loss of Lily Potter but also for Albus. That's a lot for one soul to bear," Minerva said sadly.

"I truly can't even imagine everything he's been through, all that he has sacrificed. He blames himself for so many things well beyond his control. It's no wonder he feels so dejected," Hermione said looking anguished.

"He's carried such a heavy burden, and to think that he has borne it alone. I should've never doubted him," Minerva said softly, with tears glistening in her eyes.

"We didn't know he was innocent. Given what we knew, how could we?" Hermione said softly, trying to allay her mentor's guilt and grief.

"Ah, but you knew, didn't you? You trusted him all along. Otherwise you wouldn't have saved him," Minerva offered, eyeing her student with such pride and respect.

"Well, he certainly saved me many a time," Hermione said with a small smile.

"Tell me, dearest, honestly, why did you save him? You couldn't have possibly known he was still on our side," Minerva asked, her voice dropped low, curiosity clear in her eyes.

Hermione cast a worried glance at Remus and Sirius, but the pair were busy chatting and cleaning, not paying the women the least bit of attention.

"I...it's hard to explain," she said quietly, leaning close to the older witch. "I simply felt...drawn to him. Deep down, I knew he was inherently a good person. Seeing him wounded, bleeding to death in that filthy shack, my mind was overcome with everything he did, every single time he saved me, especially when he didn't have to," Hermione uttered softly.

"Despite the demeanor he always publically presented, I always felt like I saw these little glimpses of humanity in him and that was what informed my true opinion of him. Even after he killed Professor Dumbledore, I couldn't let myself really believe he was that evil man, the monster that everyone believed him to be. I guess... as silly as it is to say, it was my heart. My heart just knew better," Hermione said honestly, trusting her mentor enough to be truthful with her.

Minerva nodded, inherently understanding and believing in the depths and wisdom of the heart. Although defying logic and reason, the heart was the very seat of soul, the truest compass anyone could ever hope to have. It did Minerva good to see her brightest pupil heeding the wisdom and truth of one's intuition rather than relying solely on the edicts of the mind.

"Well, I suggest you always listen to your heart, my dear. It hasn't lead you astray thus far," Minerva said with a smile.

Hermione smiled at the sentiment and felt true gratitude to have this wise and comforting witch as a confidant and friend.

"It's hard to believe you're really all grown up. My, how the time has flown by," Minerva said softly, giving her a wistful smile, tucking a curl behind Hermione's ear.

Wiping a small tear from her eye, and recovering her usual composure, the headmistress noted the late time and said a bit louder, "Well, I should really get going. Poppy will eat her bonnet if I dare stay out much longer. Will you be returning to the castle with me, Hermione?"

"No, I think I'll stay and review just a bit longer. Sirius said I can stay here this evening, so I'll turn in for some rest shortly and we'll plan to meet at the Ministry at 11 a.m. sharp," Hermione said.

"Very well," Minerva offered. "Do you plan on speaking to Severus before the trial tomorrow?", she asked.

Hermione offered a small shake of her head.

He was finally awake, had been so all day and yet she hadn't been by his side. It tore her apart to not be with him, but she knew she couldn't return to him until she had slayed this last foe on his behalf, even if he had asked her not to.

"No. I would very much like to check on him but I don't want to come back to him empty-handed. No," she said resolutely, "Not until I have some good news to tell him. Hopefully we'll have some for him by this time tomorrow," Hermione said, her eyes filled with both hope and uncertainty.

"I believe we will, my dear. I believe we will," Minerva said as she patted Hermione's hand with motherly pride.

Just then the pair heard the Floo activate from the library and in swept an obviously irritated Poppy Pomfrey, her black orthopedic heels clicking out a fast, angry beat as she entered the kitchen, her face like thunder.

"Minerva! Just what in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing staying out this late?!", Poppy spat, her eyes wide with indignation.

Remus, Sirius and Hermione all looked at Poppy with surprise, for the diminutive witch rarely raised her voice and had never once done so to the headmistress. But if Minerva was shocked by the outburst, she didn't show it. She merely met the irritated gaze of the mediwitch with a sigh and a soft smile.

"I'm sorry, Poppy, I did not mean to cause you any worry," Minerva said with a small smile.

"Well, I have been worried, it's near midnight!", Poppy snapped.

"I must've lost track of time. I simply wanted to help Hermione prepare. I've been so useless these past few weeks, recuperating while everyone else does the heavy lifting. I just wanted to help," Minerva said kindly, hoping to temper the mediwitch's obvious anger.

"You have not been on holiday, Minerva! You were severely injured, you've needed that rest," Poppy said hotly, taking the empty seat near Minerva while Remus and Sirius exchanged an amused look.

"At least she's not yelling at me for once," Sirius whispered to Remus, which elicited a small chuckle from the wolf.

"I heard that, Sirius Black! You just give me a reason and I'll happily lay into you as well!", Poppy barked, her eyes bright with anger.

Sirius wisely remained silent as he raised his hands in surrender and retuned to silently cleaning the dishes. Remus snickered at the exchange which earned him a swift kick in the arse from his fellow marauder.

"Now, now, Poppy, don't yell at the children, it's not their fault I stayed out so late," Minerva offered in a conciliatory tone. "I should have owled you earlier but I honestly feel fine. You have enough patients to attend to without mollycoddling me," Minerva offered with a smirk, slowly rising from the kitchen table on weak legs, leaning heavily on her cane for support.

"Oh, really, Minerva? And I suppose you've always walked with that limp and we're all just now noticing it?" Poppy volleyed back, crossing her arms in annoyance.

"Oh, you're just being overprotective, Poppy. Calm down," Minerva said, rolling her eyes at being treated like a child.

Turning to Hermione, Minerva asked, "Since my curfew is evidently up, would you kindly walk us to the Floo, Hermione."

Hermione smiled and rose and took Minverva's left arm, while Poppy flanked the right, offering additional support as Minerva leaned upon her cane. The trio slowly set off for the library Floo, with Remus and Sirius offering their good-byes from the kitchen.

Hermione held her mentor's arm with a gentle grip and was surprised to see and feel just how weakened the older witch was. Her gate was slow and careful, the hard bones more obvious and in sharp relief against the soft and pliant muscles. Gone was the wiry, muscular frame of her youth and middle age. The battle had taken a greater toll on the aging witch than most had realized, including Hermione herself. The fierce lioness, the proud Gryffindor, was finally showing the strain and wear of a lifetime spent fighting. The simple, irrevocable march of time, and the toll it naturally took as payment for a life lived, saddened Hermione more than she could say.

"You're still healing, Minerva," Poppy said irritably, as the trio headed slowly down the hallway. "You can't push yourself this hard, you need plenty of rest if you want to fully heal. You can't just stay out till all hours, you should be asleep by now. You're not some spring chicken anymore," Poppy offered angrily.

"Thank you for that not so subtle reminder that I'm ancient, Poppy," Minerva said with pursed lips. Poppy halted Minerva's forward momentum with a warm hand on her arm.

"Minerva... I simply want you to take your recovery as seriously as I do," Poppy offered, her harsh tone softening, her eyes meeting the headmistress' with worry and concern.

"I know, Poppy. I know," Minerva said softly with a smile, her pale, wrinkled hand coming up to cup the mediwitch's face.

Poppy let out a weary sigh at the tender touch as a single tear gently fell from her tired eyes.

"I just...I want..I need you to get better, dearest," Poppy said softy, her anger finally ebbing away as Minerva smiled and tenderly wiped away her tears.

Minerva leaned forward then and gave her love a sweet kiss on the lips, causing Hermione to nearly swallow her tongue from shock.

Pulling back slightly, Minerva said to Poppy, "I'll take better care of myself, I promise."

Poppy smiled at this and once more took her lover's arm. This time bringing her own body right up against Minerva as the pair leaned into one another for affection and comfort. Hermione still held onto the left side, but now sported a warm smile, feeling inexplicable happiness in the knowledge that these two women, each brave and fierce in their own right, had one another as a refuge, a safe port in the storm.

As they reached the library, Minerva said to Poppy, "Why don't you head home and I'll follow shortly. I just want to discuss one more thing with Hermione."

"Very well," Poppy offered a bit reluctantly. "I'm giving you ten minutes and not a single second longer."

"If you keep her longer than that, Miss Granger, you'll have to answer to me," the mediwitch offered with a stern frown.

"Absolutely, ma'am. You have my word," Hermione said, knowing she would rather fight a horned-tailed dragon bare-handed than tangle with an angry Madam Pomfrey.

As Poppy disappeared in a woosh of emerald green flames, Minerva turned to Hermione with an apologetic smile.

"You'll have to forgive, Poppy. She's always been a bit overprotective."

"No, no, it's fine, really," offered a smiling Hermine who was still processing this new development.

"I'm so sorry I kept you so late. Please tell Madam Pomfrey that I'm sorry as well. And thank you, once again, for helping me today. I couldn't have prepared this all without you," Hermione said honestly.

"My dear child, you've done this. All of it. Saving him, defending him. This is all your doing and I'm so very proud of your brave, beautiful heart," Minerva murmured as she pulled the young witch in for a warm, tight hug.

"Thank you, Minerva. Your faith, your vote of confidence, it means everything to me," Hermione said sincerely, smiling as Minerva gave a warm smile in return and disappeared into the flames.

As Hermione returned to the kitchen to gather up her papers, she found Sirius and Remus both stationed at the sink, Sirius washing and Remus drying, the pair a perfect study in harmony and efficiency.

"Did you two know about them?" Hermione quietly asked, shock and wonder still apparent on her face.

"What?," asked Sirius turning slightly from his spot, his arms still elbow deep in soapy bubbles.

"You mean Minerva and Poppy? Oh yeah, they've been an item since well...forever I suppose," Sirius said casually, turning to Remus for confirmation. The wolf offered a nod.

"Yeah, at least since when we were in school. They've mostly kept it under wraps, though. The wizarding world isn't as progressive as the muggle world about those types of relationships," Sirius said with a sad shake of his head. At this, Remus opted for silence, drying the dishes with his eyes downcast.

"Still," Sirius offered, "a few knew about it. In fact, I caught those two snogging in the infirmary once," Sirius offered with waggled eyebrows.

"What!? You did? You never told me!," Remus gaped, snapping his friend with a wet dish rag. This only elicted more chuckling from the animagus.

"Yeah, it was in our fifth year. You and Jamie were in detention with Slughorn, Peter was off doing Merlin knows what, and I felt a bit bored. So I tried to sneak into the infirmary to steal a bit of _Felix Felicis_ for our game against Slytherin the next week. I was under the cloak so no one could see me, and when I walked in, there they were, snogging against Poppy's desk," Sirius said with a grin.

"I don't believe you! You must be making this up", piped up Hermione.

"Just ask Minerva, she'll tell you. Caught me red-handed when I tried to boost the potion from the medicine cabinet," Sirius said.

"What?! You still tried to steal the potion with them in the room!?", she asked, her eyes wide with wonder.

"Of course I did. They were quite busy, if you catch my drift and I didn't think they'd notice," he said nonchalantly.

"You didn't think they'd notice a couple of bottles of potions magically floating trough the air?", Remus asked, clearly amused by his friend's plan of attack.

"Looking back now, I can see the flaws in my thinking, I'll admit it," Sirius offered with a grin.

"You see, this is what happens when you try to pull off a plan without my brains," said a smiling Remus.

"Oh, please! We got caught plenty of times when you were the brains of the operation, Moony. So don't act like you never got pinched," Sirius said with a teasing scowl.

Remus chuckled softly while he eyed his oldest friend with warmth and happiness dancing in his eyes.

"I never said I was perfect. I just can't believe you never told me!", said Remus as he finished drying the last of the dishes.

"Well, I didn't tell you because I'm a gentleman," Sirius offered with a smirk, wiping down the kitchen counters.

"Oh, is that so, Mr. Black?", asked a disbelieving Remus with a smirk and a teasing tone.

"Yes, it is. Well...that and Minnie might've threatened to shrink a certain appendage of mine if I happened to let it slip. So I wisely chose to keep it quiet. Didn't you ever wonder why Minerva always let me off so easy?", the pure blood asked his oldest friend.

"I don't know, I never gave it much consideration. I honestly thought she just liked you. It's no wonder James and I were always getting detentions while you got a simple slap on the wrist," Remus said with a smirk.

"Yep, ol' Minnie owed me one," Sirius said with a wink.

"I prefer to think that she simply was entranced by your legendary charm and wit, Mr. Black," Remus offered with a warm smile.

"Well, yeah that too, of course," said a smiling Sirius.

As the last two marauders reminisced and joked, Hermione felt a genuine smile spread across her tired face. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she saw Remus looking so happy. His deep, hearty laugh filling up the whole kitchen with warmth and joy, his face lit up bright as Sirius recalled many an embarrassing tale from their shared youth.

Wrapped up in happy memories, Remus looked ten years younger, the troubles and sorrows that usually clouded his heart, temporarily kept at bay by the musings and laughter of a certain raven-haired gentleman. Remus looked so content, so very much at home with his dear friend by his side. It warmed Hermione's battered heart to see him slowly healing, his heart and soul reawakening once more to all the joy that life still held. If Remus could heal, after all the loss and heartache that plagued his short life, then there was hope for the rest of them.

As Sirius finished the dishes and a particularly amusing story involving James accidentally sprouting a donkey tail for a solid month, Teddy awoke, his gentle whimpers bringing Remus back to the here and now. The werewolf bid Hermione a good night, the smile still very much present on his rugged face as he took a warm bottle of milk to soothe his hungry son.

Alone in the kitchen with Sirius, Hermione silently stacked and organized her notes, worrying her lip with a gentle bite, while her eyes scanned her notes for any potential holes. Sirius saw her worry and placed a warm arm around her shoulders.

"You've done so well, love. We're already so proud of you," he said sincerely.

"Do you think we've done enough? Do you think we'll win?", she asked, worry clear in her voice.

"You know, if life has taught me anything, it is that I don't know very much," he said with a smirk, causing Hermione to chuckle.

"But what I do know, without a shadow of a doubt, is to never, ever bet against Hermione Granger. She'll surprise you every time," Sirius said with a genuine smile, offering her a sweet kiss on her forehead.

"Your old room's all ready, love. Go get some rest, we've got a big day, tomorrow," he called over his shoulder as he left to turn in for the night.

"Thank you, Sirius, for everything," she softly called, her brown eyes full of gratitude.

"Anytime, love," he offered with a wink as he disappeared up the creaky stairs.

Finally alone, Hermione drew a deep breath and she felt a small twinge of hope float through her, soft and steady, like her very own heartbeat.

Beneath the tide of exhaustion and anxiety, Hermione felt that small semblance of confidence and it gave her strength. She finally felt prepared and ready to battle on behalf of her potions master. There was just one last piece of the puzzle she needed. And first thing tomorrow morning, she would have it.

 _~~~~0000~~~~_

Draco Malfoy stood staring listlessly out at the rather abysmal weather, his melancholy thoughts were as clouded and turbulent as the dark sky above.

Drinking his tea in the front parlor of his ancestral home, he tried with all his might to block out the noise and chatter that echoed throughout the manor.

Of all the noise that surrounded the young Slytherin, it was the laughter that was truly getting to the young pure blood. Muddy boots thumping across the hand-cut, marble floors, idle chitchat about the Chudley Cannon's newest seeker, orders being shouted gracelessly across the home to organize and move furniture. All of it merged into a dull, pitch-less white noise that he could tune out if he focused hard enough. But that damn, horrendous laughter, that was a whole other story.

Uproarious and boastful, it seemed to fill every inch of Malfoy Manor and it was unnerving the young man far more than he cared to admit.

A quiet, prim mansion to begin with, the laughter would have been out of place at his home at any time, but this particular laughter was truly astonishing in its origin because it was emmenating from at least two dozen aurors and ministry officials.

Bloated, arrogant windbags, the lot of them. Traipsing about Malfoy Manor as if they owned the place, which technically-speaking, they soon would.

For weeks now, the aurors had been a permanent fixture at the manor, searching every nook, cupboard and corner for any and all items deemed "in violation of Ministry Decree number 1146 prohibiting ownership of items containing or pertaining to dark magic." At least that was according to the parchment that arrived but a single day after the defeat of Lord Voldemort.

Family heirlooms, art, furniture, books, among other things, were tagged and stacked haphazardly in the front foyer all purportedly full of dark magic, and all being seized by the ministry, by order of Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister of Magic.

Draco knew it was pure bullshit. All of it. The dark lord had lost and now his known followers and their families, those that had narrowly escaped prison time, were being severely punished for aligning themselves with such darkness. This was to be expected, really.

His pensive melancholy was temporarily broken as his mother swept into the room looking severe as always. The constant strain and stress of the previous weeks was beginning to wear on Narcissa Malfoy, in both obvious and subtle ways, her son noted with some sadness.

Her once effortless elegance and grace was beginning to fray at the edges. Deep worry lines etched into her porcelain white skin, framing her mouth in a tense frown, that seemed to heighten her already severe appearance.

Her once beautiful dress robes were beginning to show signs of wear and disuse, as well, marred with slight smudges and dirt, small threads coming loose at the seams. The Narcissa of old would have sooner crawled naked through Diagon Alley than present herself in anything less than the finest fashions. But with their bank account frozen and indefinitely seized by the ministry, she couldn't afford such friviolities now. Besides, fashion was the least of her concerns at the moment, for she now had more pressing matters to attend to.

"Draco, dear," she called, a parchment clutched tight in her pale hands, her thin lips set in a tense frown, "it seems that Aunt Persephone will not be able to accommodate us as we had originally planned," she stated with some false cheer, but he could clearly hear the crackle of despair in her prim voice.

"I'm sorry to hear that, mother," Draco stated resignedly, setting down his now cold tea, still staring out into the rain.

Out of the dozens of living relatives on both the Malfoy and Black side, not a single one would deign to host Draco and his mother in their homes. It seemed no one wanted known death eaters as house guests, not in the current political climate, anyway.

"Well, these things can't be helped. Everyone is seemingly busy at the moment. Aunt Persophene and Uncle Alastair will be traveling extensively and...well. We will make due somehow," she offered rather airily, painting a rather disingenuous smile to her face.

"Mother, our home and assets are being seized. We're not heading out on holiday. We're about to become homeless," Draco spat, finally looking pointedly at her, his anger flaring at her nonchalance.

Narcissa's features darkened only momentarily before resuming her aggressive, fake cheer.

"Draco, dearest, you mustn't let this upset you," she stated with a tight smile, smoothing her hair back in a vain attempt to control some small thing in her quickly crumbling world.

"This will all be cleared up in due time. This is temporary, son. The ministry is just trying to save face against the public backlash. They can go over our accounts with a fine-tooth comb until they are blue in the face and I can assure you, they will come up empty-handed. Your father was very discreet with his business dealings, they will find absolutely nothing untoward on that score."

"Besides, what do you expect when the ministry is being run by a bunch of half-breeds and blood traitors," she uttered loudly as several aurors carted off the ancient Black Family piano, banging and scraping the exquisite instrument as they hauled it through the front door, causing Narcissa to visibly wince at the sound.

Draco groaned inwardly at his mother's naiveté. Forceful optimism was the order of the day, it seemed.

Noting her son's stooped posture and heavy sigh, Narcissa stepped forward to place a warm hand on her son's shoulder, her frown softening ever so slightly at the despair that hung heavy around her only son's neck.

Draco placed his hand atop his mother's and turned to face her. The look of pure anguish passing between the pair silently. Standing in the empty room, devoid of all the comforts and luxuries they had once taken for granted, they realized that they were truly alone. All they had left was one another.

"The freeze will be lifted on our accounts soon and our home will be returned to us in due time, we simply have to play their game, love," she offered quietly.

"We still have eachother, dearest. As long as we have eachother, everything will be fine. We're going to make it through this. I promise," Narcissa said softly, her warm hand cupping her child's face.

He felt a small swell of hope at her words. Maybe his mother was right. Maybe these things just needed time to resolve themselves. Their family had suffered slings and arrows before and they had always survived. Maybe optimism wasn't such a foolish thing after all.

Just then a tawny owl swooped through an open window, carrying a red letter in his talons, and Draco sighed audibly, for he knew what it contained. Several times a day these unwelcome red enveloepes arrived. Usually they were intercepted and disposed of by one of the many house elves, but this one managed to skirt by their attentiveness.

The owl dropped the letter on a near-by desk and the envelope rapidly unfurled and immediately sprung to life, spewing a litany of obscenities, filling the previously quiet room with harsh, vulgar screeching.

"Your family is utter garbage and I hope your father rots in that prison until the end of time! Your kind have no place in our society! You and all the other scum that bare the despicable Malfoy name deserve to burn in hell until...", the angry voice bellowed until Draco drew his wand and muttered a quick, " _Incendio_!"

He watched with some grim satisfaction as the letter burst into a ball of bright red flames thus bringing the spewing vitriol to a merciful end.

But the damage was done. As Draco turned to see his mother, Narcissa stared at the ashes and swallowed thickly, her eyes suddenly filled with unshed tears.

"I'm sorry, mother. I know how you hate them. You mustn't listen to them," he utter softy, truly hating to see his mother so distraught.

"They're only being honest, dearest," she offered with a sad smile, catching his gaze and looking so very lost and helpless at that moment.

Drawing a deep breath, she quickly schooled her features into the usual impassive mask of cold indifference. It never paid to dwell on the past, the only option now was to move forward with purpose and grace, something that Narcissa was well-practiced at.

"Yes, well...I will owl my third cousin, Lucinda, and see if she can accommodate us for the time being," she said, confident once more as she swept from the room, leaving Draco alone once again with his woeful thoughts.

Feeling utterly adrift and useless, he resumed his silent vigil by the window as he watched teams of ministry hacks apparate from the front lawn, toting off his family possessions one by one, all laughing and sporting the same smug look of victory at playing a small part in dismantling the once noble house of Malfoy.

"Vultures," he muttered darkly.

As the last auror disapparated, he caught sight of something glinting in the mud. Looking more closing he realized it was his father's waking cane, discarded on the wet, verdant grass, like a piece of worthless trash. Seemingly forgotten by the inept ministry employees as something not even worth bothering with.

It was a polished obsidian cane, with an alabaster snake head for a handle and sparkling emeralds encrusted as the beast's eyes. He didn't know how exactly his father came in possession of the cane and honestly could not recall a time with out it. It was as permanent a fixture in his childhood as his father himself. He could recall hearing the familiar _thump, thump_ of the cane tapping out over the polished floors, the gentle noise comforting the young boy. Whenever he ventured out into the great, big world with his father, the elder would let his son hold the cane while he conducted business. As a child, Draco could remember how important it made him feel to hold it, as if the cane itself could imbue him with the same authority and power his father seemed to effortlessly possess. He could even remember his father promising to give it to him upon his wedding day.

He could remember lying awake in his bed at night, awaiting his parents return from a formal ball or dinner, and he would breathe a sigh of contented relief when he would hear the familiar sound of his father's cane thumping across the polished floor, like a heartbeat.

He marveled at how much that sound, and indeed his father's presence, had once comforted him, giving him a sense of peace and protection, feelings that he suddenly realized he could no longer associate with being Lucius Malfoy's only son.

That cane had come to be a symbolic extension of his father; tall, rare, imposing. His father always carried it with him and it never failed to give him an air of aristocratic, regal power. With it, he seemed impervious to any harm. And now it lay in the mud, a forgotten relic of a once prominent man.

Draco's blood would've boiled at the sight if his heart weren't so full of sadness and grief at the thought of his once proud family brought to their knees, their once pure name besmirched and sullied. His father rotting in prison once more, his mother begging family and friends to take them in.

He laughed mirthlessly at how he had once defended his family name, as if it were inherently noble and worthy of defense. The purest of families, the very best of the best, as his father had been so fond of saying.

And yet here they found themselves, reviled, penniless pariahs, soon to be homeless. He quietly marveled at just how truly pathetic and pitiable the house of Malfoy had turned out to be.

His whole world turned upside down, Draco now understood just how little he knew about the real world. A lifetime insulated by wealth and privledge had left him ill-equipped to handle the daunting task of taking care for not only himself, but also his emotionally fragile mother, in a world that now viewed him and other pure bloods with distrust and contempt.

His mother was wrong, this wasn't going to simply go away. Public vitriol of this magnitude wasn't simply something that would disappear in a few months.

One thing he knew for sure though was that their family would never, ever recover from this deadly blow.

Staring at the cane, he suddenly realized he should have gone out to fetch it. He could have even ordered a house elf to bring it in, but staring at in the mud, he now seemed incapable of recalling just why that cane had meant so much to him in the first place.

No, for once, Draco Malfoy made a conscious decision. He left it in the mud, right where it belonged.

Gripping the window sill for strength, staring out at the storm clouds ahead, he quietly muttered, "What else can possibly go wrong?"

At this, there suddenly rang out three crisp knocks on the front door, the sound echoing throughout the now cavernous mansion.

 _Ask and ye shall receive,_ he thought darkly.

"Agnes!" Draco wearily called out.

Almost instantly, a small wizened house elf appeared by her master's side.

"Go see who's at the door," Draco asked the house elf who had been with his family since before he was born.

The small, wizened house elf, with a noticeable limp, hobbled to the door and pulled it open with a good bit of weary concern.

There standing at the threshold, drenched from head to toe, was a witch seeking out assistance.

"Yes, hello there, good morning. My name is Hermione Granger, is Draco home perchance?", she asked the house elf with what she hoped was a warm and friendly smile.

The elf only eyed her warily and then promptly slammed the door shut in her face with a loud thud.

 _That went well_ , Hermione thought ruefully.

"Master Draco, a filthy mudblood with lots of wet hair is calling, asking for you sir," Agnes said, with apparent disgust dripping from her hoarse voice as she returned to the parlor.

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he realized just who exactly was paying him a visit.

"It's alright Agnes, show the lady in. She is an acquaintance from school," said Draco. "Kindly, bring her to the drawing room," he asked.

The elf complied but not without a good bit of reluctance.

Draco buttoned his black jacket and headed into the drawing room, knowing exactly why this particular witch would be seeking him out. For standing in the middle of the room was one of the very last people he ever wanted to see again.

"Hello, Granger," he said tersely, closing the door behind him as he entered the luxurious room, full of furniture covered in plastic sheets and tagged with ministry labels.

"Good morning, Draco. I'm sorry to arrive unannounced, but you've ignored the two owls I sent yesterday, thus I had little choice but to show up," Hermione said defiantly, as way of introduction.

He blew out an angry sigh, shoring up his reserve of patience to deal with this formidable opponent.

"I didn't answer those letters for a reason, Granger. I'm not helping you. I've got enough problems of my own without sticking my head in the lion's mouth again. My mother and I barely made it out of that courtroom, there's no way I'm heading back there willingly."

"Draco, I know you're facing rough times right now, but...", she offered but was immediately cut off.

"Rough times? Rough times!?," Draco asked, his voice raising several octaves, echoing around the empty room.

"My father is in prison! Again! Our home and all our assets are being seized, indefinitely, by the ministry for our ties to Voldemort! We're a week away from being turned out on the street because we have no where else to go and all of our relatives have suddenly grown consciences and wouldn't dare have scum like us darken their doorsteps. My mother is purely delusional and is probably a day or two away from a complete, fucking nervous breakdown! Rough times!? You don't have a fucking clue about what I'm going through!", he raged, his bottomless reserve of anger finally finding an outlet.

Hermione felt the anger wash over, her own temper rising at his acerbic words but she drew a deep breath and willed her anger to settle on its own accord. She knew she had to remain calm if she was going to be successful in her current endeavor.

"Draco, I...I get it. Believe it or not, I really do. Your life is falling apart. I understand that more than you know," she said softly, her brown eyes full of understanding.

He crossed his arms angrily over his chest and stared out the window.

"Draco, I...I wouldn't be here...I would've never come back here if I didn't really and truly need your help," Hermione said, her eyes darting around the room with a good bit of worry.

It was just then that he turned towards her and saw her shaking slightly, her arms hugging herself tight. He suddenly remembered what happened in this very room.

"Oh, fuck, Granger. I...I forgot. I wouldn't have brought you into this room," he said, his eyes softening at her shaking before him.

He stepped towards her then and Hermione immediately flinched at the sudden movement, her hand instinctively reaching for her trusty wand. He noted the movement and stopped his forward progression, appreciating just how nervous she must feel.

He put his hands in the air in a defensive manner, to show her he meant no harm. She relaxed ever so slightly as she watched him slowly cross the room and open a set of floor length double French doors that led outside.

He turned to face her once more, and silently motioned for her to enter the garden and leave the drawing room and the painful, frightening memories it held for her.

She narrowed her eyes at him, unsure of why he was offering her a way out. But her overwhelming urge to flee the horrible room won out over her desire to dissect his motives. She quickly pocketed her wand and walked towards him, brushing past him quickly. Entering the garden full of lilacs, hydrangeas and roses of every shade, she finally let out a breath, one she had been holding since she entered the manor.

He followed wordlessly behind her and shut the doors, seperating them from the manor as best he could.

The rain had momentarily stopped as the unlikely pair stood under a covered trellis draped with jasmine and hyacinth, awkward silence surrounding them.

"Thank you for bringing me out here, this...this is better," she said, the quaver in her voice disappearing as she breathed in the fresh air.

"Not a problem," he said, eyeing her sadly, swallowing his own disgust at the horrible memories swirling about his cluttered mind.

"I'm sorry," Draco offered softly as his defiant stance melted away, real concern shining in his eyes.

Her eyes popped wide in surprise at the foreign words coming from the Slytherin's lips.

"Pardon me?", she asked incredulously.

"I'm sorry about what happened to you. Bella was a lunatic. She deserved what she got," he said quietly.

"That's...that's very kind of you to say," she offered with a small genuine smile.

"It's not kind, Granger. I'm not a kind person, you know that. It's simply decent. Someone in this horrible family should apologize to you," he said, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, his eyes meeting hers with sincerity.

"You're very different from your family, aren't you, Draco?"

"Not really," he said with a sad shake of his head, like a prisoner facing an inescapable life sentence.

"I'm just as terrible as the rest of them. My mother and I, we deserved Azkaban, just like the rest. Were it not for my father taking the brunt of the blame, we would've ended up there, too. Missed it only by the skin of our teeth," he said, crossing his arms, looking both shameful and anguished.

"I don't believe that for a second. I think you are different," she said, as if she could see something he couldn't.

"You don't even know me, Granger," he said softly, his eyes downcast.

"You're right. You're right, I don't," she offered, glancing out at the magnificent grounds.

"It's strange, isn't it? I've known you just as long as Harry and Ron and yet, you are mostly a stranger to me, just as I am to you," she said.

"Despite having shared a childhood, we know so little about one another. Only broad brush strokes of eachother, second-hand notions and stereotypes," she said, carefully cupping a bright yellow tulip. Such a remarkable thing of beauty to find in such a place of immense sadness and horror.

"You've thought me a dirty mudblood, an arrogant know-it-all, unworthy of the name 'witch'," she stated matter-of-factly, her voice calm and even, turning her attention to the man before her.

"And you've thought me a conceited pure-blood. Worried only about myself. A coward without principles, a puppet," he volleyed back, his usual sneer and anger curiously absent.

"Was I far off?", she asked with a small smirk.

"Not really," he said with a small smile. She chuckled softly and the tension that seemed to hang between them for seven years lightened ever so slightly.

"I've never given you a chance, Draco. And I'm sorry for that. People deserve more than suffering under the weight of unfair characterizations," she offered.

"You and your mother, you're different than what I had always thought you to be. Your mother spared Harry's life that day, she may have had ulterior motives for doing so, but she lied to Voldemort all the same and that took incredible bravery. I think deep down you have your mother's brave heart."

"I also think you care. I think deep down there's actually a lot more to you than blood status and keeping up your image."

"You couldn't kill Dumbledore. You simply aren't a killer, you...you know right from wrong. I know you do. And you lied about recognizing Harry the night we were brought here. You're braver than I ever gave you credit for," she said honestly.

He swallowed hard at the anguish and grief that sat just below the surface.

"I need you to help me, Draco. Truly I do. You and your mother could offer vital testimony for Professor Snape. He's a good man and he is going to be sentenced to a terrible fate today unless you agree to help," she said, finally laying out what exactly she needed.

"Granger, I just...I can't," he said wearily, hanging his head in resignation, looking from away from her.

"Don't you care about your godfather? He saved your life, you know. You're going to let him suffer a fate worse than death?", she asked earnestly.

"Yeah, well...I am a Slytherin, aren't I?", he sneered, falling back on his usual selfishness to mask his deep shame at letting his godfather twist in the wind.

"So, you don't care what happens to him?", she asked, truly stunned.

"No," he said tersely, failing at hiding his obvious anguish.

"What's done is done. I care about my mother and myself, that's all I can afford right now," he said, his jaw set firm.

"He killed Dumbledore so you wouldn't have to. His soul will forever be marred by that, Draco," her voice raising, trying desperately to shake him out of his pitiful wallow.

"God damnit, Granger, you think I don't know that?!", he yelled, his shrill voice echoing across the garden, causing a flock of ravens to take flight from a nearby weeping willow.

Hermione looked down, properly chastised. Draco audibly sighed at the sight.

"I know, Granger, believe me, I do. It plagues me everyday," he offered more softly, as he sank onto a stone bench, dropping his head into his hands. Tears welled in his eyes and he roughly wiped them away from his flushed face, not caring anymore to hide behind an impervious make of indifference.

She sat down beside him, careful to keep a respectful distance. The unlikely pair sat and took in the gentle sounds of mourning doves, as the rain began to gently fall once more.

"The trial starts in two hours, Draco. I have several other witnesses lined up, but your testimony and that of your mother's, would be the most crucial, it could make or break this for him," she said, laying all her cards on the table.

"Choice is an amazing thing, Draco. We can be whatever we choose. This is your chance at redemption. You can save two souls today. Professor Snape's as well as your own. I urge you not to throw this chance away."

"I'm a Malfoy, Granger. I'm rotten to the core, there's no hope for me," he said sadly.

At this, Hermione did something incredible, something unbelievable. She slowly slid across the bench and took his hand in her own. She held it there, her own warm fingers wrapped carefully around his cold ones, and stared into his deep green eyes with defiance. The stunning gesture shocked the young Slytherin into speechlessness.

"I'm your last hope, Draco. This is it. This is the moment. You can choose to head down the right path and save a good man or you can head right after your father and live a life full of selfish misery. The choice is entirely up to you," she said, boldly holding his gaze.

"Be the man I know you can be, Draco. You're not your father, you never were," she said, giving his hand one last squeeze before releasing it and standing.

"So stop acting like it," she stated firmly, pulling her robes tight around her.

She turned and apparated with a soft pop, hoping against hope that she had done enough to convince a cunning snake to trust a proud lion.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Wow! Lots of new favs, follows and reviews this week, thank you so much for the continued support. It means the world to me :) Hope you all are doing well, Happy Monday!**

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 _She may be going to Hell, of course, but at least she isn't standing still._

 _― E.E. Cummings_

Severus awoke from a dreamless sleep, feeling groggy and slightly disoriented from the many potions Poppy had forced down his gullet the previous day. Although he had protested taking them, those potions had kept his searing pain at bay and now that they had worn off, his body felt aflame with pure, raw agony.

His right arm and both legs felt like a million hot needles were stabbing his skin, searing his muscles and joints. The pain was practically blinding, his head spinning and stomach lurching as he tried to sit up in bed. He was immediately disappointed to find that meaningful movement was impossible as his legs and injured arm, heavy as solid lead pipes, refused to budge even more than an inch in any direction. Only his left arm could be forced to move but only with extraordinary effort and pain. His jaw clenched tight at the pain rushing through him, nausea taking hold as he drew a calming breath and tried to will the pain away. Peeling open his tired eyes, he scanned the empty infirmary and saw Poppy already bustling about, ever the early bird, the cheery morning sun just peaking over the dew-covered mountaintops.

Seeing him awake, and in obvious discomfort, Poppy wordlessly approached his bedside. After spending the previous day in bed, ignoring all who approached him with stone silence, Poppy knew better than to try and attempt any type of meaningful conversation with the former headmaster. Instead she simply, yet carefully, deposited several vials of healing potions in his lap.

"Take them. One for pain, one for muscle and bone strengthening and one for blood purification," she offered, arms crossed, all business.

Severus eyed the vials and wordlesly shook his head in response, his steely eyes meeting hers with defiance.

"Severus, you are in no way fully healed. You're still quite weak, as I'm sure you yourself have noticed. You've been in this bed for three weeks and before that you damn near bled to death. Take them...please," she pleaded, her voice softening. "You need these to get better."

He only shook his head once more, averting his cold eyes from her warm gaze and kind words. He did not deserve the reprieve from the pain. He needed to feel this, all of this.

"Severus, at least take the pain potion. There's no need to suffer," she offered, motherly concern shining in her grey eyes.

He quietly marveled at the witch standing before him. How many times had she healed him over the years? Too many to count.

From his first fall off a broom in his second year that resulted in a nasty broken ankle, to every black eye, bruise and scrape inflicted by Potter and Black, every school-age injury was tended to by this caring witch. As he transitioned from school boy to Death Eater, to full-blown spy, Poppy also took up the mantle of his care each time he returned from the service of Tom Riddle, fixing everything from broken ribs and smashed fingers, to concussions and ruptured internal organs. The quiet witch had even treated many deep stab wounds, with Severus stumbling into the infirmary, barely conscious, dearly clutching his body, his pale hands covered in his own bright blood. With immense, often over-looked, talent and skill, this quiet, selfless woman had healed him each and every time, pulling him back even from the brink of death on more than one occasion.

He had always allowed to her heal him in the past because as a spy for the light, he was worth more alive than dead. But now with Voldemort defeated and his role as spy effectively ended, this precarious scale had tipped and he was now worthless, good to absoutely no one at all.

Laying there, taking in her genuine concern, he sadly realized that Poppy had actually been one of the only people in his whole life who never asked anything of him. She didn't manipulate him, reject him or ever dare put him in harms' way. She lived to serve in fact and had taken exceptional care of him over the years, although he never made it easy. Thinking back, he couldn't even recall ever thanking her for her diligence and care. And now all she was asking was for him to simply listen and heed her request; take the potion and ease his own pain, along with her own anguish at seeing him so stricken.

Even though the pain was horrible and a part of him longed for the blessed relief of feeling healed and whole, he would not allow her to help. He simply did not deserve such care. He swallowed hard at the empathy and care she so freely and generously offered.

It was clear that she still saw him as that lost, little twelve-year old boy, thin and shy in shabby robes, who sported far too many black eyes and split lips. A child in desperate need of love and care. But he hadn't been that innocent child for a very long time, he thought sadly.

Didn't she know who he was? What a monster he had become? His heart lurched at all the horror and pain he carelessly inflicted upon this world.

 _No need to suffer?,_ he thought ruefully. He had every reason in the world to suffer.

So with his one functional arm, he wordlessly picked up the potions and flung them full force against the stone floor, the contents exploding and shattering mere inches from Poppy, coating the witch's shoes in glass shards and viscous potions.

Poppy gasped and looked at her recalcitrant patient, with eyes wide, full of anger and hurt.

"Very well, Severus. Have it your own way," she offered curtly, swallowing hard at the tears prickling her tired eyes.

With a quick wave of her wand, she wordlessly vanished the ruined potions and broken glass from the floor, and returned to her small office to leave the man in his self-imposed solitude. She slammed her glass door shut with much more force than was strictly necessary.

 _Good_ , he thought angrily, _leave_. _All I want is to be left alone_.

Alone. Always alone. The only constant in his long, miserable life.

He channeled all his strength into his good arm and managed to roughly pull himself up to a sitting position and leaned his pounding head once more onto his scratchy, lumpy pillow. His eyes fixed on the tall window before him, granting him a sweeping view of the surrounding castle.

The sight was a sobering one.

He could see the Great Hall below, and although its outer walls were still standing, its ceiling was completely ripped away, revealing the barren, darkened hall within. It looked so empty and hollow, like a chest cavity devoid of a heart. Ravenclaw tower was decimated, too, its once spiraling, grand column of earthen stone reduced to a mere pile of rubble and ash. Professor Sprout's greenhouses were barely standing as jagged glass shards from the structure now stuck up at odd, sharp angles into the morning sky, like angry, spiked talons. With the ivy-covered glass ceiling shattered, he could clearly see the multitude of plants inside, the ones that Pomona had so lovingly tended to, had been burned to ruin, her large clay pots crushed and littering the singed earth. The astronomy tower had also crumbled, it's jagged metal steps jutting into the sky were the only evidence that a tower had once stood there.

He knew that the destruction he could see was only a small part of the damage this exquisite castle has suffered.

All across the grounds, trees had been uprooted with ease, grass and wild flowers burned to black, stone benches crushed by Giants, stone pillars that had stood for a thousand years now lay in heaps. This war, this bloody, insufferable war, had destroyed his school, the only home he ever knew, just as much as it had destroyed him.

Yet despite the overwhelming destruction around him, it was all the little, every day things he saw littering the ground, that truly broke his heart.

A single, small blood-stained school shoe, the laces still tied.

A burnt Ravenclaw scarf, tangled in a tree branch, blowing uselessly in the early morning breeze.

Countless broken wands.

An open traveling trunk, its lid blasted apart to reveal books, school robes, a bright pink hairbrush and a small, worn, brown teddy bear.

Chilrden had been here and witnessed this horror. Innocence had been lost, irrevocably so.

He had momentarily forgot that this was hallowed castle was never meant to be a battle ground, this was supposed to be a school, first and foremost; a place full of happy children, a safe haven, a comforting bastion of knowldege. And yet, it hadn't been a safe place in a very long time. Children had died here. Children he had taught and corrected, children he had in some small way, helped raise. They had died, their last moments full of dread, pain and fear.

His eyes burned with unshed tears at the weight of it all.

He laid perfectly still and watched the sun rise ever higher, bathing his whole body in bright light. Today was his trial, and he sadly realized that this would be the last sunrise he would ever see. The morbid thought left him cold despite being surrounded by warm sunlight.

Today was his last day of freedom, the last time he would get to make any choice for himself. Miss Granger would no doubt try and defend him, foolish girl that she was. But the vehement pleas of one young, adamant woman against the whole Wizengamot would surely be shouted down.

By night fall, he would be carted off to Azkaban to rot in a windowless cell until his body finally gave out. So why bother with potions? Why bother healing at all? Poppy was a good, kind soul, but really, she needn't bother trying to mend him. It would only prolong his misery here on the mortal plane.

He felt sharp pain, shame and disappointment, but most of all he felt anger. Anger at Albus, at Riddle, at himself and most of all at Lily. His mind clear from the influence of any potions, he was able to focus on recalling her cryptic message and the longer his mind turned over her words of duty and obligation and the empty promise of some future happiness, the more bitter and enraged he became.

 _Damnit, Lily. Why?_

 _Why force me back only to face my doom?_

 _What good can I do here? Surely this world is better without me._

 _What good could possibly be coming my way?_

 _What happiness could I ever be offered, let alone deserve?_

But little did he know at that very moment, the wheels of justice were just beginning to turn, and if one witch had her way, they would be turning in his favor.

 _~~~~0000~~~~_

The large atrium of the ministry was incredibly quiet and mostly empty, save for a few aurors heading out on duty and a handful of low-level grunts carrying stacks of paperwork, scurrying off to their own departments. Hermione took this as a good sign. Given how much attention Professor Snape's survival had garnered in the papers, with reactions ranging from shock and disbelief (" _Snape a Hero After All? New Evidence Suggets So"_ ), to pure hatred towards the now disgraced potions master, (" _Severus Snape: A History Of Pure Evil"_ ), Hermione had worried that Severus' trial would draw a scene. Thankfully this wasn't the case.

She breathed a sigh of relief as her small band of determined do-gooders crossed the marble lobby and entered an empty lift, including Harry, Remus and Sirius, the older two each flanking Minerva and carefully helping her walk. Luna and Neville completed the small group as the lift doors slowly cranked shut and began its steady descent to the courtroom several levels below.

"We're a bit early so we should be the first ones down there. Our other witnesses should be following shortly," Hermione said nervously smoothing her finest dress robes, her face set with determination.

"Are you sure you're up to this? You look a bit tired," Remus said kindly as he eyed Hermione's haggard appearance with a good bit of concern.

At this, Sirius reached around Minerva and offered Remus a quick slap to the back of his head.

"Ouch!", yelped Remus, reaching up to rub his now sore head. "What was that for?!", he asked, now turning to glare at Sirius.

"It's impolite to tell a lady she looks tired, Remus," Sirius offered with a warm smirk.

"You, in fact, look fierce and incredible, Hermione, just as always," Sirius offered with a genuine smile.

Remus reluctantly cracked a smile at this. "You're right, Sirius. My apologies, Hermione," he said, looking contrite. "I just wanted to make sure you're feeling up to this. You've got quite an uphill battle ahead of you."

"She's got this, Moony. I've never seen a tougher witch. Those old windbags won't know what hit 'em," Sirius offered with a wink at Hermione.

"Thank you, Sirius. I hope so. The Wizengamot has had their docket full with prosecuting all the remaining death eaters. There is at least one other trail scheduled after ours today. Since I submitted our motion yesterday to withdrawal Professor Snape's memories as evidence I don't think they're expecting anyone to put up much of a fight on his behalf. But we have a a good number of witnesses coming, I just...I hope it's enough. It may take a while to convince them," she offered with an apologetic smile.

"Don't worry, Hermione. We'll stay as long as it takes," offered Neville, with a kind, encouraging smile, the others nodding in agreement.

"You're not alone, Hermione," said Luna smiling, her wide blue eyes full of intuition and care. "We're always here for you."

"Thank you," Hermione utterly softly, feeling so thankful to have friends she could rely on, friends who would battle beside her.

"Well, on the bright side, things could be worse. At least the press didn't bother showing up," Hermione said with a small smile.

As the lift lurched and reached the bottom floor, the doors slid open and their quiet conversation was immediately replaced by a huge rush of light and harsh yelling as dozens of reporters and photographers rushed forward to take their pictures and pepper the war heroes with questions.

The narrow hallway was positively swarming with every reporter and photographer known in wizarding world, all here to witness the trial of the most notorious death eater, Severus Snape.

"Looks like a few people might be interested in the proceedings, love," said Sirius above the din.

Hermione suddenly froze, her heart seizing at the crowd before her, but Harry gently slipped his hand into hers and gave it a warm squeeze, "I'm right with you, it's going to be fine," he whispered in her ear.

The supportive words and his warm touch gave her just the push she needed to draw a deep breath and head into the crush of vultures.

With Harry by her side, Hermione set her eyes straight ahead at the courtroom at the far end of the hall. The group lapsed into silence despite being bombarded by a litany of questions being shouted at them by the mass of bodies blocking their way.

"Oh, Miss Granger! Mr. Potter! A quote for us! Please!"

"Are you two dating? When's the wedding?"

"How are you all feeling today?"

"Neville Longbottom! How are your parents doing?"

"Turn this way! Give us a smile!"

"Minerva McGonagall! Are you still up to running Hogwarts after the severe injuries you sustained during the battle?"

"How does it feel to vanquish the dark lord?"

"Why are you all here today?"

"Testifying against your former professor?"

"Are you hoping for a swift conviction?"

"Sirius Black, are you dating anyone?"

While most of the assembled group chose to keep their eyes straight ahead and ignore the queries, Sirius, ever the ham, found the surrounding circus highly entertaining and couldn't stop himself from answering.

"I've asked this lovely lady to marry me on more than one occasion but she keeps turning me down," Sirius said as he picked up Minerva's hand and brought to his smirking lips for gentlemanly kiss.

Minerva smirked and visibly rolled her eyes to dramatic effect.

Just then, a small, frumpy reporter in tattered, brown robes jostled himself through the thick crowd and latched onto Remus' side.

"Remus Lupin, I'm Alwicious Gibbert, from Witch Weekly magazine. Now tell me, Mr. Lupin, how are you holding up following the loss of your dear wife? You must be absolutely devastated! How is your son? How can a lycanthrope like yourself hope to a raise a child alone? Do you plan to remarry?", the reporter rapidly peppered the lone wolf.

Remus visibly tensed at the barrage of questions and froze to the spot while the crowd suddenly quieted and all eyes focused on him. The color drained from his face as he realized he was the center of attention of two dozen reporters, all eagerly leaning in to grill him.

Spotting his friend's discomfort, Sirius quickly stepped around Minerva and was at Remus' side in a flash, stepping in front of Remus to block off the obnoxious reporter.

Sirius offered a terse, "No comment today."

Sirius wrapped a protective arm around the still stunned Remus and began pulling him towards the courtroom as Neville and Luna helped Professor McGonogall.

But the pugnacious reporter would not be deterred so easily, racing on stumpy legs to catch up to the two men, unceremoniously plowing through Neville, Luna and Hermione to get to his intended target.

"Hey, Black! I was talking to the werewolf not you! Now, step aside, would ya!?," the reporter angrily spat as he threw a sharp elbow Sirius' way, landing squarely in his stomach, giving him a chance get closer to Remus once more.

"Will you try to marry another werewolf, Mr. Lupin? After all, how can a half-breed like yourself ever hope to marry a real witch? Lightening doesn't strike twice, now does it?", he said with a leering grin.

The small reporter quickly realized what a tactical error he had committed by getting in Remus' face once more as Sirius suddenly appeared by his side and pulled the reporter up short, Sirius' large hands clutching the man's dirty robes and slamming him hard against the wall and pulling him several inches off the ground.

"Put me down, Black!", he bellowed, pure panic coloring the reporter's face as his short legs flailed uselessly to find tera firma once more.

Sirius grinned at the sight, "Well, aren't you a plucky little thing? I guess you're not going to take 'no' for an answer, now are you? Well then, I have a comment for you," Sirius offered in a dangerously low tone, his eyes glittering with rage.

The assembled crowd gasped at the sight but made no move to intervene on the fellow reporter's behalf. They all merely leaned in, hoping to get a good shot.

"Werewolves are not 'half-breeds', do you understand me? It's backwards, disgusting thinking like that which gave rise to the likes of Tom Riddle. We are all part of the wizarding community and it's high time we started accepting one another rather than separating ourselves into classes," Sirius said, his voice resolute.

"Remus Lupin is the bravest man I've ever known, he's battled Death Eaters, Giants, Dolores Umbridge and ignorant, prejudiced bigots like you his entire life, all the while battling a painful and misunderstood condition. He along with all other werewolves are worthy and deserving human being and they deserve equal treatment. Their kind proved integral in the defeat of Tom Riddle and you would do well to remember that. And if I ever catch you so much as giving him or any other werewolf a sideways stare, let alone publishing slander about them, so Merlin help me, I'll shove my wand so far up your...", Sirius spat with anger.

"Sirius," Remus interjected, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Sirius, I think he's got the point," Remus offered, blushing furiously at all the unwanted attention.

"I'm not so sure, Remus. I don't think this bellend knows who he's dealing with. I think a practical demonstration might help to clear things up," Sirius offered, his voice low and growling.

"Sirius, it's alright. I'm alright," Remus said, tearing his friend's gaze away from the repugnant man. "I'm okay," Remus said softly.

The wolf's words of reassurance finally penetrated the animagus' fog of machismo and Sirius slowly lowered the frightened reporter to the stone floor, who promptly scuttled away as fast she his stubby legs would carry him.

His retreating form let out a sharp yelp of pain at the stinging jinx Sirius wordlessly sent his way without nary an ounce of remorse.

"Was that really necessary?", Remus asked in a chastising tone, but a small smile quirked his lips upwards.

"No, not necessary. But it certainly made me feel better," Sirius offered with a smirk, hooking his arm through Moony's as the group resumed their slow, slog forward, the press still baying for blood.

As they approached the guard desk that barred journalists from the courtroom, none other than Rita Skeeter jostled herself to the front of the crowd with a few well-thrown elbows and landed herself directly in front of Hermione.

"Miss Granger, tell us, are you here to see to it that Severus Snape gets what he deserves?", Skeeter asked, her auto-quill poised in the air over a small tablet, awaiting some kind of quote.

As Harry tried to push past the irksome reporter, Hermione hung back and eyed the crowd of harried reporters. The crowd grew silent, expectant as all eyes and ears settled on the young witch.

Hermione felt the acute weight of their attention and offered a small, confident smile.

"Yes, Miss Skeeter, as a matter of fact, I, along with my friends are here today to ensure that Severus Snape gets exactly what he deserves."

"Are you hoping for life in prison or would a Dementor's kiss be a for fitting punishment for the ghastly, remorseless murderer of Albus Dumbledore?", Skeeter asked with apparent glee in her eyes.

"Neither actually. We are hoping for a full pardon," Hermione said defiantly.

"I...I don't understand. A pardon?", Rita asked disbelieving.

"Severus Snape is innocent of all charges. He has the full weight and support of the Order of the Phoenix as well as Hogwarts headmistress and Board of Trustees and we won't rest until his name is fully cleared of all wrong doing," Hermione said confidently.

With that, Hermione turned on her heel to leave a stunned crowd in her wake.

As they each made their way through the wand check at guard desk, the press pool was moved back into an adjourning hall and silence now filled the blessedly empty corridor. Safely ensconced away from the prying press, Remus pulled Sirius aside.

"You can't just do that, Sirius. You can't hex every person who's rude to me," Remus said softly, his mouth set in a tense frown.

"Now you listen to me, Remus John Lupin, I don't give a good god damn if that was the queen of bloody England I just hauled up against that wall, no one speaks to you that way," he said quietly yet defiantly, anger dancing in his eyes at the protectiveness he felt for his oldest friend.

"Sirius, I appreciate the sentiment but you can't behave that way. I'm a grown man, I'm accustomed to this kind of treatment. Fighting these kinds of people, it just makes it worse for people like me," Remus stated resignedly.

"You're blaming me for this?! You really expected me to sit idly by and stomach that bullshit? Sorry, Moony, I think we both know me well enough to know I wasn't going to hold my tongue," Sirius offered defiantly.

"Sirius, people still think werewolves are dangerous, some even think we should be put down, like rabid animals. It's all based on thousands of years of superstitions and rumors and fear mongering, it's the type of thing that doesn't go away overnight. So you can't go roughing up every idiot who spouts this kind of nonsense. I've got thick skin, I've long ago grown accustomed to it. You shouldn't work yourself up about it, it's not worth it."

"Not worth it!? Not worth it!?", Sirius asked disbelievingly, his voice rising with indignation.

"Your dignity, Remus, is most certainly worth it. So I'm sorry if I embarrassed you back there but no one, and I mean no one, speaks to or about you that way, do you understand me? Not as long as I draw a breath. So you just better get used to it," Sirius offered with a huff and stomped off moodily to join his godson.

Remus shoved his hands deep in his pockets, a warm blush staining his cheeks.

"He just hates seeing you hurt, you know," Hermione offered, sliding up next to him.

"I know," Remus said, smiling as the animagus talked quietly with Harry across the hallway. "I know."

Minutes quickly ticked by as more witnesses arrived and filled the narrow hall, Hermione's gut churning with anxiety. A quick _Tempus_ charm told her they had but fifteen minutes until the trial began.

Sirius soon returned to Hermione's aside and gave her a quick hug.

"Alright, it looks like you all are set to start soon. As long as you won't be needing anything else from me, I'll be off to do my duty," Sirius offered with a bow.

"No, I think we have everything we need. Thank you for helping get us here safely this morning. And thank you for volunteering for this tough job today, it's really very kind of you," Hermione said, giving Sirius' arm an affectionate squeeze.

"It's my pleasure, love. Well...not really my pleasure, per say, but everyone else is needed here and there's no one else to watch him, so in that case I'm happy to help," Sirius offered.

With that Sirius strode toward the elevator and disappeared into a lift.

Hermione's eyes lingered on the lifts, her face set in a worried frown.

Sensing her nerves, Harry joined Hermione's side, holding her hand as they waited to enter the courtroom.

"Still waiting on the last few witnesses?" Harry asked.

"Yes. I was hoping at least a few more would turn up. Wishful thinking I guess," she said with a half-hearted smile.

"Ah, have a little faith," Harry said squeezing her hand for support.

Just then, the elevators door slid opened and out stepped Ron, tucking his button-down shirt into his slacks, his dress robes draped over his arm, as he tried to smooth his ruffled hair as much as possible. He looked pale and a bit thinner, but cleaned up and presentable, none the less.

Hermione smiled at the sight.

"Hello," Ron offered softly as he joined Hermione and Harry.

"Hi. I didn't know if you'd come," Hermione said softly.

"Yeah, me either. I, uh...I wasn't sure you'd really want to see me," Ron said, looking unsure of himself.

"Of course, I would," she said earnestly.

"Well, good. I just want to help. If this is important you, than it matters to me as well," Ron offered with a small smile.

"Thank you, Ronald. It's really quite kind of you to do this," she said, returning the smile.

"You don't know what I'm going to say yet. Save your thanks for when I'm done," he said as he smiled at her.

She laughed softly at this, as Ron gently took her hand in his. Harry caught the gesture and politely excused himself to conference with Remus and give the pair a bit of privacy.

"I've missed you," said Ron softly, as his fingers trailed across hers, his eyes gratefully taking in the sight of her lovely face.

She blushed at the contact and the warmth in his words.

"I've missed you, too, Ron," she said, sincerely.

"I've been a real ass these past few weeks. I know you needed more from me but I just...I didn't have it to give. I'm sorry for everything," he said, his eyes suddenly wet with tears, his face flushed.

"Oh, Ron, I know," she offered, pulling him in for tight hug.

"I've been pulled in a thousand different directions myself and you've needed me too and I wasn't there either, I'm so sorry," Hermione said, pulling back to look at his red eyes.

"I guess we're both shitty friends then, eh?," he said with a small smile.

"That we are," she said smiling.

"Look, we should talk more later, yeah?," he offered as he pulled her in once more for a tight hug.

"Yes, I would like that," she said, smiling sincerely.

They smiled shyly at eachother as Ron reluctantly released her hand and stepped forward to offer her a chaste kiss on her cheek.

Harry rejoined them as the golden trio prepared to fight together once more. As the court clerk opened the large oak doors and announced in a loud clear voice for all to hear, "The court will begin session in five minutes!"

As Hermione, Harry and Ron all started toward the courtroom, the trio stopped abruptly as the elevator doors creaked open once more and produced none other than Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, the pair looking prim and polished, albeit terrified, to be here once more.

Hermione smiled and walked toward them, leaving a stunned Ron and Harry to watch in disbelief.

"Mrs. Malfoy, Draco, thank you both for coming," she offered with a small smile.

"Miss Granger," Narcissa offered coolly with a slight nod. "Draco informed me of your visit this morning and we are both pleased we can be of some assistance to Severus."

Turning to her son, she said, "I'll meet you in there, Draco," as she walked imperiously into the courtroom, earning several quiet whispers and stares from the assembled group.

"I know how hard it is for you to be here and to do this. Thank you. This means the world to me," Hermione said.

"Don't thank me, I'm not doing this for you," Draco said honestly. "You were right earlier. I owe Severus a lot. My mother and I, we're here for him," Draco said as he eyed the courtroom ahead with a wary eye.

"I understand that, and I thank you all the same," Hermione said sincerely as the pair turned as one and began to walk towards the courtroom doors.

As Hermione and Draco approached, Ron and Harry looked stern, an icy exchange ensued.

"Malfoy," offered Harry with a slight nod. Harry offered his hand and Draco eyed it only for a second before shaking it, the pair feeling uncertain and understandably wary of eachother.

"Potter," said Draco, nodding ever so lightly. "Weasley," Draco said curtly, extending his hand to Ron, who reluctantly shook it.

"It's good of you to come, Draco," Harry offered civilly.

"Yeah, well, Granger here didn't exactly give me much choice. She can be quite persuasive when she wants to be," Draco said with a slight smirk.

Ron chucked, "Welcome to our world."

The unlikely quartet entered the cold, dark courtroom for what would promise to be the trial of the century.

 _~~~~0000~~~~_

Poppy reappeared by Severus' side once more, now dressed in her formal gray robes, a thick medical file tucked safely under her arm.

"I'll be headed out for at least the next several hours. I'm going to the ministry to assist Miss Granger with your trial this morning," she offered, her lips pursed and hands crossed in front. "Do you need anything before I leave?"

He refused to even meet her eye this time, opting to ignore her completely.

"No response at all, I see. Well, you'll be happy to hear I've arranged for someone to sit with you while I'm gone, just in case you need anything," she said with a sly smirk.

At this, the hearth's flickering embers lit up a brilliant emerald green as none other than Sirius Black stepped out and dusted off his robes.

"Sorry, I'm running late, Poppy. Had a bit of a run-in with the press," Sirius offered as he gave Poppy a quick peck on the cheek and turned his attention to the infirmary's last remaining patient.

"Hello, Severus, it looks like we'll be spending some time together today," Sirius said, trying to look, if not enthused, at least not hostile.

Severus groaned inwardly, a rigid scowl firmly etched onto his pale face.

 _Well played, Poppy. Well played_.

 _~~~~0000~~~~_

As the two dozen members of the Wizengamot entered the ominous courtroom and took their seats, Hermione set her eyes straight ahead, determination clear on her face.

"Hermione, are you sure about this?," Harry asked one last time.

"Yes," she quietly answered, her gaze unwavering.

Yet her body betrayed her confident voice. Her palms slick with sweat, her heart racing, her eyes wide and alert as she took in the courtroom, she momentarily felt panicked at the task before her. She closed her eyes and called upon her famous Gryffindor courage to see her through this.

"He's gonna be pissed, you know. This isn't what he wants," Harry offered.

"That's true. But it's what he deserves," she said, looking Harry in the eye.

Harry nodded, understanding his dear friend.

Remus, seated behind her, leaned forward and gave her a quick, reassuring squeeze on her shoulder.

"You're going to be brilliant, love," he whispered. She turned and smiled at them, grateful to have his unwavering support.

Poppy entered the courtroom just then, quickly and quietly striding forward and taking her seat beside Minerva, giving the headmistress a firm squeeze of her hand and a warm smile.

With everyone finally seated, the court clerk stood as a hush fell across the packed room.

"The case before the court today is against one Severus Tobias Snape. The charges are as follows, treason against the ministry of magic, the premeditated murder of Albus Dumblebore, allegiance to Lord Voldemort, torture, use of unforgivable curses, accessory to murder and war crimes against magical and non-magical persons."

The Head Warlock, Elphias Doge, peered down at the stack of parchment before him and spoke.

"The court understands that the defendant is not present today due to injuries sustained during the final battle. Is there proxy here today for his defense?"

Hermione drew a deep, steadying breath and rose from her chair.

"Sir, if I may, I am Hermione Granger and I am present today as the defense for Severus Snape."

Elphias Doge, looked down over the reading glasses perched on his crooked nose and smiled benignly at her.

"Miss Granger, may I say on behalf of this body, we are pleased and honored to have you here today as well as the many illustrious guests you seem to have brought with you. I think I speak for everyone here today when I say that we owe you and those in your esteemed company, a great debt for the role you played in defeating Lord Voldemort."

"Sir, I thank you for your warm praise, as do those who have come with me today. But many brave and dedicated witches and wizards fought on our side, we were but a handful of those and we considered ourselves honored to have served the greater good," Hermione said with a warm smile.

"I must say, I, along with the other members of this body are surprised to see you all here today defending Severus Snape of all people. Surely, you have better things to do with your time than defend the likes of him," Doge offered with a tense frown.

"Oh, Sir, I respectfully disagree. It is our belief that while Severus Snape may appear to have been aligned with Lord Voldemort, I will present evidence, in the form of multiple testimonies, that his allegiance has always been with the Light. He acted as a double agent since the end of first war, routinely risking his life to maintain his precarious position. Serving in this unique capacity allowed him to provide crucial information to our side that ultimately proved critical in our victory. Furthermore, we will show today that any unlawful acts he may have committed were in service as his position as Albus Dumbledore's most trusted ally and spy."

The members of the Wizengamot seemed dubious at best, many of them casting sidelong glances at the seemingly preposterous claims from the young war hero. But they had never come up against the likes of Hermione Granger and as Ron and Harry could easily attest, when she was passionate about something she was a frightening force to be reckoned with.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Sincere, heartfelt thanks for all the new follows, favs and especially the reviews! I'm like a kid on Christmas morning each time I get one. They all mean so much to me, so thank you for taking the time to leave your thoughts and feelings. They are greatly appreciated.**

 **Special, huge thanks to _Silverwolf1986_ & _DADAMistress_ for the steadfast encouragement and positive feedback!**

 **This chapter turned out a bit long, so I apologize in advance. Just wanted to fit everything in and move the story along a bit, hope it reads well. I know it's been a bit angsty but, if you can, kindly stick with it. I promise there are greener pastures in the near future. As always, thanks for stopping by & I hope you all have a fabulous week :)**

* * *

 _You are tired_

 _(I think)_

 _Of the always puzzle of living and doing;_

 _And so am I._

 _-E.E. Cummings_

As Poppy disappeared in a whirl of green flames, Sirius pulled up the rickety metal stool beside Severus' bed and plopped down unceremoniously. He offered Severus a friendly nod and smile.

Severus merely glared in response.

His last day of freedom and he had to spend it with the one bastard he loathed above all others. Poppy truly had a wicked sense of humor to stick him with this man for a whole day. And to think he had but hours ago regretted his poor treatment of the mediwitch. Now all he wanted to do was wring her neck.

Severus had thought the physical pain he had awoken to had been unbearable but that sensation was now driven out by the volatile hatred that took hold just by looking at Black.

Seated before him, smug as always, smiling and looking healthy and well at ease, Black seemed to float through life like a Greek deity, untouched by the trouble of mere mortals. Severus' jaw clenched at the sight, his eyes flashing raw anger at having to endure Black's insufferable company.

Severus might be stuck in this bed and he may very well be toted off to Azkaban before the sun set, but these last few hours of precious freedom were his and he still had some say in how he spent his time. He would be damned if he spent it conversing with this arrogant prick, he could at least choose to ignore him and block him out completely.

"So...lovely weather we're having," Sirius said, trying for civility.

Silence.

"Ah, still not talking then?", Sirius asked.

More silence, coupled with a pointed glare.

"Yeah, Poppy and Min mentioned you weren't much in the mood to chitchat. Well, that's alright. Not to worry. No need to strain yourself, I can fill you in on all the wonderful things I've been up to," Sirius said pleasantly as he shook off his black jacket and settled in for what would presumably be, a long visit.

"Let's see, where to start?" Sirius asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Oh yes! I've been reading quite a bit about muggles lately! Truly fascinating creatures. For instance, did you know muggles have this thing called scuba diving. You, see, these crazy buggers strap a huge metal tank to their backs filled with air so they can dive deep in the ocean. Not entirely sure why they'd want to do to such a thing, but I've been reading up on it and low and behold, it's quite popular."

"Hmm, what else has been keeping me busy? Oh, yes, you'll be pleased to know I've taken up knitting!" Sirius offered excitedly.

And with that, a full hour of profoundly annoying chitchat commenced with Sirius discussing everything from his favorite Quidditch team (the Chudley Cannons, predictably) to his favorite food (pickles, oddly enough). Every idiotic thought that crossed Sirius' brain, flew straight out of his lips, much to the Severus' chagrin.

 _So this is what hell feels like,_ Severus thought as his head began to pound from the nonstop noise.

Severus kept his eyes straight and sat in perfect silence. To help block out the incessant chatter and distract himself, he chose to keep his mind busy by recalling the brewing procedure for the Wiggenweld potion.

 _Standard size eight caldron, copper stirring rod, low even flame_

 _Gently heat one pint of horklump juice. Add two drops flobberworm mucus_

 _"_ And then the rash spread, you see? It was looking downright nasty for a while, but Poppy assured me it wasn't contagious..."

 _Add Seven chirzpurfle fangs crushed, then chopped fine and fifteen drops billywig sting slime_

"I tried Thai food for the first time last week, but honestly I can't see what's so great about throwing chilies in every damn thing. How are you supposed to even taste it if your tongue's numb?!"

 _Add half pint salamander blood and ten lionfish spines. Stir until potion turns a deep orange_

"But I can't really complain, the chap ended up selling me a lovely new teacozy."

 _Increase heat to medium-high and continue stirring counter clockwise until potion turns red. Add single mint leaf, torn in two._

"I'll tell you, that's the last time some rude, old bitch will cut in front of me at the grocer's."

Although Severus' mind was putting up a good fight, the cogs and wheels turning at their assigned task, he soon found he was coming up short at completely tuning out the drivel spewing forth from his old enemy.

As much as he hated to admit it, Black was getting to him and his body soon began betraying his growing sense of annoyance. He wasn't used to holding his temper nor his tongue, especially not from Black, and his body was soon quaking from the unfamiliar exercise. His heart was pounding, his eyes wide with anger, a single bead of sweat trickled down his furrowed brow.

As Sirius began rattling on about how muggles had traveled into outer space and the pure-blood idly wondered aloud if he was too old to follow his lifelong dream of becoming an astronaut, Severus cracked, his boiling point finally reached.

"Would you please shut the fuck up, Black!?" Severus finally screamed, his eyes black with fury as he finally looked Black square in the eye.

A slow, satisfied grin spread across Sirius' face.

"Ah, there we go! See? I bet Poppy a galleon I could get ya chatting," Sirius offered with a smirk, looking triumphant.

"Only you would mistake this exchange as chitchat," Severus said acidly.

"Well, I'll take what I can get. And honestly, you've said worse to me before. All in all, this might be our most pleasant conversation to date," Sirius said with a wide, easy smile.

"That's only because I've remained silent while you've sat here flapping your gums," Severus glared.

"Yeah, as with most things, your silence definitely helped," Sirius offered with a chuckle.

Severus just glared.

"C'mon, now that I've got you chatting, what's on your mind? You haven't talked to anybody in a month, even I must be better than nothing."

Severus offered a dubious look and said, "I prefer silence. We have absolutely nothing to discuss."

"Oh, come now, I'm sure we could find something to talk about," Sirius said.

"I sincerely doubt that."

Sirius crossed his arms with a huff and rolled his eyes.

"Look, Severus... I get it, alright? I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here. But Hermione needed everyone else to testify this morning. I had no vital testimony offer and thus you're stuck with me for the day, we can at least try for civility."

"You didn't have anything meaningful to offer? Color me surprised," Severus drawled, enjoying landing the barb.

"Yes, that's right. Useless as usual," Sirius agreed, resolutely refusing to take the bait from an injured man.

Severus resumed his silent vigil.

"Well, alright," Sirius said, after a few quiet minutes. "We obviously don't _have_ to talk, what would you like to do? You feel like reading? Are you hungry? In pain?" Sirius asked, taking his role as caretaker very seriously, wanting to make Hermione proud.

"Just leave me alone," Severus hissed, quickly tiring at having to converse with Black.

"Fine, I'm here if you need anything," Sirius said, pulling out his reading glasses and the morning edition of the _Daily Prophet_.

Two more hours ticked by in perfect stone silence, with Severus staring straight out the window, watching the clouds roll in, trying to ease his growing sense of dread.

As the sun climbed high in the sky, Sirius finally abandoned his paper and blew out an exasperated breath.

"Christ, I'm bored!" Sirius exclaimed as he flung his head back in mock anguish.

"You've mistaken me with someone who gives a damn, Black. Why are you even here? I can assure you, I would much prefer to sit alone. So why don't you scuttle back home and sit on your useless ass there?" Severus asked snarkily.

Sirius felt his temper rise but chose to dutifully ignore it, and swallow the insult that seemed to always sit ready and eagerly waiting on his tongue for his old enemy. He had a job to do and promised Hermione he would do it to the best of his abilities. So he opted for kindness instead.

"I'm here, because I told Hermione I would stay, on the off chance you needed something," Sirius answered evenly. "It must be near noon, are you hungry? Do you need anything at all?" Sirius asked once more, much preferring to be of some use rather than sit there without a meaningful occupation.

"Piss off," Severus bit out with pure venom.

"Very well. Suit yourself," Sirius said with pursed lips as he returned once more to his newspaper.

Severus soon realized, however, that he did have one pressing need, one he couldn't ignore. Wincing as his full bladder pressed painfully on his pelvis, he shifted in bed at the discomfort and let out a groan.

"You alright, Severus? Do you need something?" Sirius asked, taking in his obvious discomfort.

"No," Severus offered tersely.

Poppy had left him a bedpan on his side table the previous day to relieve himself but one glance to his side, revealed that this much needed item was all the way across the room, on top of Poppy's desk.

Lips pursed in anger, Severus reached for his wand. His fingers trembling as he pointed it at the pan, he cast a wordless _Accio_ to no effect. The pan didn't even tremble, let alone move, at his cast spell. He swallowed hard at the thought of his magic being in such low reserve and tried once more to bring forth the pan, with the same futile result.

Sirius merely lowered his _Daily Prophet_ and watched the proceedings over the rim of his reading glasses, following Severus' gaze across the room.

"Do you need a bedpan, Severus?"

"I need absolutely nothing from you," Severus spat, his minding whirling as he weighed his options.

Sirius let out a weary sigh.

"Severus, everyone is out. You have no other options, please... allow me to help you," Sirius offered, without any hint of malice.

Severus ignored the words, and the soft tone in which they were said. He instead gripped the thin mattress tight with his one good arm, he swung this legs over the edge of the bed with a heavy grunt and with all his might pulled himself into his weak legs.

"Fuck," he muttered softly at the shooting, sharp pain now racing up both legs as they tried to support weight for the first time in nearly a month.

Sirius dropped his paper and stood up quickly, his hands immediately gripping Severus to help support his gangly frame.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Severus spat, his eyes black, his body shaking slightly. He looked like he would've punched Sirius square in the mouth, if he could have managed to bring his arm up and not fall flat on his face in the process.

Sirius immediately dropped his hands and moved back a step, aggravated at being dismissed when his help was so obviously needed.

"Fine, Princess. By all means, have it your way," Sirius offered with a frown as he stepped out of Severus' path and crossed his arms in annoyance.

Leaning heavily on the bed, Severus slowly inched forward, his feet and legs aflame with pain but cooperating none the less. Reaching the end of his own bed, he shakily leaned forward to grab onto the adjoining bed. As his long fingers reached forward and just grazed the neighboring bed frame, his legs buckled beneath him and he tumbled forward, landing with a heavy thud on the cold, unrelenting stone.

Sirius was by his side in a flash, kneeling next to the prone man, his eyes now wide with concern.

"Fuck, Severus, are you alright?! Are you hurt? Let me help you up," his hands already gripping the potions master's sides.

"What part of 'fuck off' do you not understand?!" Severus roared, lifting his head to glare at Black.

"You just go and plant yourself in that chair, you selfish bastard! I would sooner rot on this floor until my dying day than accept your help!" Severus screamed, his body quaking with twenty years worth of white hot rage.

The words had their intended effect. Like a swift kick to the gut, Sirius' face fell and looked pained, as he once more removed his hands and settled back on his knees to look at the man lying prone before him. His patience was finally spent, his good will stretched well beyond his limit.

"Fine!" Sirius snapped. "That's just fine! Won't take my help, will you? Good for you then! I don't expect anyone back for at least several hours. Laying on this freezing floor in your state, I'm sure you will be dead by then. Enjoy the last painful hours of your life, Severus!" Sirius spat.

With that Sirius rose and left his old nemesis on the floor, to return to his _Daily Prophet_ , grabbing the paper from the floor and angrily flipping the pages open.

Severus couldn't help but notice that even in his angered state, Black had called him by his given name and not his cruel childhood nickname. He felt a twinge of regret at having yelled at the proffered help but chose to ignore the unfamiliar thought for the time being. He had bigger problems at the moment than worrying about offending Black.

Severus drew a deep breath and assessed his options. Poppy's desk and his bedpan, lay behind him, a good twenty feet away, while the bathroom was a straight thirty feet ahead. He didn't trust himself to be able to swivel around to reach Poppy's desk, so he chose to aim for the bathroom, which at least was a straight shot and would only require forward momentum.

A course of action decided upon, he managed to peel his left arm and upper torso off the cold stones. Resting on his left elbow and settling his weight there, he began the slow and painful crawl to the lavatory, pulling his useless legs and damaged arm along like an anchor dragging along the sea floor.

 _Thump, slide._

 _Thump, slide._

 _Thump, slide._

Weak bone thudding against stone, ravaged body being drug against its will.

"So you'd really rather crawl to the loo than let me help you?" Sirius asked, all pretense of reading abandoned as he watched Severus intently.

"You're damn right I would," Severus said through gritted teeth, his eyes fixed straight ahead at his goal.

Sirius sat on his stool, torn between feeling deeply saddened at the pitiful sight and quietly impressed at the stubborn bastard's persistence.

For all his bravado, Severus was busy summoning every ounce of strength not to vomit and pass out right then and there. Sweat covering his face, his heart beating painfully against his ribs, the tight pressure building low in his belly, his body was rapidly turning against his iron will. He felt as if he were running a marathon and quickly running out of steam.

Severus was only a third of the way to the bathroom when his body finally gave out, his muscles cramping and seizing-up painfully and refusing to move even an inch more. Collapsing full force onto the floor in a ragged heap, gasping for sweet air and his last reserve of energy spent, it was then that he felt it; warm liquid flooding his thin pajama pants, soaking him through along with the stone floor beneath him.

At this, he let his eyes flutter shut in utter defeat, his bony cheek caressing the ancient stone. He turned his head away from Black to hide the sudden onslaught of tears, coming hot and fast. They slid down his pale cheeks, dripped off the end of his hooked nose, and plopped softly upon the cold stone.

He let out a shuddering breath and began to softly laugh at the utter absurdity of his current state. The noise sounded so foreign and sad, his weak body shaking as the sound reverberated through him and around the silent infirmary. The strangled noise soon turned into soft sobbing.

Taking in the sight of the ever-growing puddle and the weeping man lying in it, Sirius' irritation evaporated and he let out a soft sigh.

"Severus?" Sirius asked softly.

"I bet this is so fucking sweet for you, Black," Severus said quietly, his tear-choked voice filling the room.

"This must be so utterly satisfying for you to see. Snivellus... paralyzed on the floor, crying and covered in his own piss, waiting to be taken to prison," Severus softly uttered, all his dignity and self respect completely obliterated.

It was now Sirius' turn at silence.

Severus heard the scrape of the metal stool along the stone, and thump of other man's boots hitting the floor, approaching him. Severus didn't dare his turn his head. He couldn't bare to see the glee, the triumph he was sure would greet his tired eyes.

Instead, Severus felt two strong hands tuck under his shoulders and haul him up into a sitting position, a wide barrel chest resting against his back, supporting his dead weight.

"C'mon, let's get you back to bed and cleaned up," Sirius offered softly.

"Poppy said I shouldn't cast any spells on you in your weakened state, so I'm going to have to walk you back to bed. You think you can bear some weight on your legs?" Sirius asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

Not trusting his own voice, Severus only nodded, his face still flushed, eyes cast shamefully at the mess he made.

"Listen, it's no big deal. I pissed myself all the time when I was younger. Easy to clean up," Sirius uttered nonchalantly, as if cleaning up piss were a daily occurrence for the pure-blood.

With a practiced flick of his wrist, the mess was vanished without a single word spoken, magical or otherwise.

Tucking Severus' bad arm under his shoulder, Sirius gently pulled the man up to a standing position and used his own body to support his weight. A few steps in and Severus' weak legs gave out once more, lurching suddenly towards the floor. But this time he didn't land flat on his face. Sirius caught him and hauled him up once more, picking up the potions master and bearing his full weight against his chest and strong arms.

Five large strides and the pair landed back in Severus' bed with a thud, both falling face first, breathing heavy at the incredible exertion.

Sirius quickly pulled himself free of the tangled limbs and swooped down to catch Severus' long, pale legs and carefully swivel him back into the bed in a reclined position.

Both of their clothes now soaked, Sirius ignored his own state and quickly strode to Poppy's office. He emerged a moment later, arms full of clean towels, a fresh set of pajamas and a basin of warm water.

With eased, practiced strokes, Sirius draped a fresh towel across Severus lap to offer him some privacy as the pure-blood pulled his soiled pants free and tossed them aside. He cast a cleansing charm on the bedsheets and then grabbed a small hand towel and soaked it in the soapy, warm water and began gently washing Severus' legs clean, carefully cleaning and drying the pale skin.

His skin now freshened and dry, Sirius grabbed a clean pair of pajama pants and pulled each pant leg carefully through each foot, taking care not to move too fast or strain the already weak muscles.

Pulling the soft pants up to his pale thighs, he looked Severus in the eye for the first time, and said softly, "Alright, hold on 'round my neck and we'll left your hips, so I can slide your pants up."

Too ashamed to argue, Severus merely obeyed, his good arm slung around his foe's neck as he embraced the man and felt his hips pull upwards. Clean fabric covered him once more.

Sirius gently lowered him and then quickly devested him of his soiled shirt. He carefully washed his pale chest, neck and face with a clean, wet cloth, taking exceptional care to avoid the cuts and still-healing lacerations and bandages.

The bandage covering his neck wound had torn, reveling the angry, red bite mark beneath. Sirius carefully peeled the soaked bandage away and replaced it with fresh, dry dressing. He worked in silence, his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, his eyes narrowed and focused as he concentrated on his patient.

For his part, Severus sat in silence, openly watching the man before him with complete surprise. His nemesis, his tormentor, was caring for him, intimately and thoughtfully, as if...as if they were... friends. As if he deserved such consideration. Sirius had offered him dignity and respect and the sincerity with which he so freely gave such care moved Severus deeply.

The skin cleaned and bandages replaced, Sirius then gently pulled Severus forward in bed, supporting his weight as he bent forward at the waist, to help him don a clean button down cotton shirt. Once his arms were through, Sirius gently laid Severus once more into his pillows and began to quickly button the shirt closed.

Freshly dressed, Sirius then gathered the sheets bunched at the bottom of the bed and covered Severus, topping the thin sheets with a fresh, thick blanket, warmed with an added charm. After the harsh cold floor, the new warmth felt positively heavenly against his thin, frail body.

"Alright then," Sirius stated, nodding as he looked over his patient, satisfied with his handiwork.

Sirius grabbed his wand then and cast a cleansing and drying charm on his own clothes.

"Now then, you must be in some pain, how about a potion for that?", Sirius asked as he wordlessly cleansed the soiled pajamas and threw them in a hamper full of sheets awaiting to be laundered.

Severus met his eyes and felt like he was in the presence of an entirely new person. The help was one thing. Any person with half a heart would've helped him off the floor. But the concern, the thoughtful care with which Sirius was treating him was truly astonishing. Tears prickled Severus' eyes once more.

"No, no potions," Severus said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"The stoic type, eh? Yeah, I figured as much. Well, then," he paused, and blew out a breath. Looking around the empty infirmary, he asked, "How about a drink then?"

He started to shake his head, his automatic response to any offer of help or kindness, but found himself stopping midway.

"Yes...yes, alright," Severus replied.

"Good. 'Cause I was gonna have one anyway and I hate to drink alone," Sirius offered with a small smile.

He disappeared once more into Poppy's office and returned a minute later with two coffee mugs and a bottle of aged muggle bourbon.

"Poppy keeps liquor in there?", Severus asked, surprised.

"Oh, yes. Quite the collection, in fact. She loves muggle liquor, especially bourbon," Sirius offered as he resettled onto his stool, breaking the seal on the bottle.

"Since when?" Severus asked, his curiosity piqued.

Sirius chuckled. "Forever probably. I used to come in and nick it starting back in our second year."

"I didn't know she drinks," Severus said, honestly surprised.

"Wouldn't you if you had her job?" Sirius asked with a smirk.

Severus smirked.

He poured two drinks and offered one to Severus. Severus eyed the liquid a moment and brought it to his nose, inhaling the familiar scent, painful memories suddenly coming forth on their own accord.

"My father used to drink this," Severus said softy, slowly tilting the mug in his hand, watching the amber liquid move like waves.

"He was a muggle?" Sirius asked.

"And an alcoholic...among other things," Severus said, his eyes downcast.

Sirius smirked back as he set the full bottle down.

"Yeah, my father drank too. Not muggle liquor like this. Orion was an arrogant pure-blood, through and through. Every night it was elf wine with dinner and then three firewhiskies. Every damn night, he'd get a few under his belt and then...well," he chuckled sadly at his own painful memories, dancing before his eyes.

"Suffice it to say, I still can't stand the smell of firewhiskey," Sirius offered with a mirthless laugh.

Eyeing Severus' discomfort, whose eyes had never strayed from his own cup, Sirius offered, "Would you prefer something else to drink? She's got some tequila in there."

"No, this is fine. I'm no better than Tobias was. It's fitting this should be my last drink," Severus said softly.

"Well, then, 'To horrible, alcoholic fathers everywhere. May they all rot in Hades,'" Sirius said as he raised his glass.

"I can drink to that," Severus offered as the pair gently clinked mugs and downed the harsh liquor in a single gulp.

"Another?" Sirius asked, holding the full bottle up.

Severus nodded as he brought his glass forward for a refill.

"You really think this is your last drink? Think you're headed to Azkaban?" Sirius asked sincerely.

"I do, in fact," Severus admitted.

"I wouldn't be so sure. I don't know if you're aware, but Hermione's off giving it all she has. Rounded up all kinds of witnesses to testify on your behalf."

Severus blew out an exhausted sigh at this.

"I told her yesterday not to bother. She shouldn't have done that. I don't deserve freedom," Severus offered, rubbing the bridge of his nose, feeling so very tired and wrung-out.

"Well, she believes otherwise. Besides, she has a mind of her own and tends to follow it," Sirius said, eyes full of pride.

"It doesn't matter," Severus said softly. "I'm an evil man, Black, you know that. I know exactly where I'm headed and no amount of happy thoughts or testimonies is going to change that fact."

"You just wait and see, Severus. She's one helluva witch, you should have a little faith in her. She just might surprise you," Sirius said with a smile.

Ringing like a bell in his mind, the words stopped Severus in his place.

"What did you just say?" Severus asked, feeling the most powerful sensation of deja vu wash over him.

"I said, 'she just might surprise you'," Sirius repeated, looking a bit confused at his companion's puzzled expression.

Severus paled as his mind whirred into action, turning Sirius' words over and over in his mind while recalling the same message from Lily.

 _She just might surprise you._

 _She just might surprise you._

 _Don't be so sure, Severus. She just might surprise you._

Surely, Lily hadn't meant Miss Granger. No, no...she couldn't have.

"You alright, Severus? You've gone all pale...which is saying something for you," Sirius asked, genuinely concerned, as Severus was pulled out of his quiet contemplation.

"No, no, nothing, it's nothing," Severus said, dismissing the words, and the unfamiliar emotions they elicited, as mere coincidence.

Another quiet hour passed, the pair polishing off the bourbon, mostly in silence. Finally Severus spoke the words that had been spinning around his mind.

"Why, Black?", his voice careful, and lacking its usual venom.

"Why, what?", Sirius asked.

"Why did you help me? Clean me? Care for me? You've always hated me, why help me at all?", Severus asked eyeing his companion with genuine curiosity.

"I'm not a total cretin, Severus," Sirius answered with a weak smile.

"You could've fooled me," Severus said with a smirk.

"Yeah...yeah, I get that a lot," Sirius said with a sad chuckle.

Sirius blew out a deep sigh and set his mug aside. He looked conflicted, anguished even, at the rush of emotions fluttering through him as he looked at his old adversary.

He tried to pinpoint exactly where it had all started, why they had set down this long, hateful road. Some egregious catalyst must have occurred for the pair to hate eachother with such ferocity and for so long.

He could easily call forth all the hexes, the snide remarks, the punches and jabs, the clear, volatile disdain that permeated every interaction the pair had shared up until one hour ago.

But try as he might, he couldn't pull forth the exact moment that made him actually hate Severus, made him _want_ to hate Severus. He realized that the hate they felt for one another had grown naturally, immediately and on its own accord. And hate like that, unbidden, unwarranted and vicious can only come from one place: self-hatred. It had come into existence because he and Severus were much more alike than either had ever cared to admit. They both were both victims, hurting beyond belief and just barely holding that frightening hurricane of rage inside.

When they met, they had each seen in one another the very thing they tried to hide from the world: weakness and fear, both of which they had been taught to hate above all other characteristics. They hid it in different ways, of course. Sirius strutted and puffed his chest, acting the cocky big-shot while Severus had always tried to blend-in and disappear. Yet both stuck out to eachother, like long-lost brothers standing on opposite sides of the track, each hiding a lifetime's worth of pain behind their young eyes.

Given their horrible upbringings, they should have gotten along, sought comfort and understanding from eachother. And yet, they didn't.

They each had been bullied and rather than channel that rage into something good or useful, they each turned it outward, bullying eachother and unleashing their bottomless anguish against one another, their words cutting like knives, their hands pushing one another deeper into the black abyss.

They did it because they simply knew of no other way. Neither apologies nor gentleness, neither concern nor forgiveness had ever been offered to them and thus they were incapable of offering it to eachother.

Sirius swallowed hard at the tortured memories of his own upbringing; being locked in his room for days on end without food, pissing himself out of fear, black eyes, cut lips, hard back-handed slaps to his young face. It all wove together to feel like a blanket of pure oppression, resting atop him like a lead weight. He now understood that Severus must have lived with that same crushing weight.

Sirius had carried this weight for too long. He knew he would have to crawl out from under this heavy burden of hatred and anger if he was ever going to live and now seemed like as good a time as any to try.

Eyeing the man that he had spent a lifetime tormenting and harassing, he now felt an acute absence of hatred. He felt, instead, a kinship. He knew that despite his guarantees, Hermione might very well fail and this might be the very last time he would ever get to speak to Severus. This might be his last shot at absolution.

"Look, I know it's not much," Sirius finally offered, swallowing hard as he rested his hands on his knees.

"I don't know if this is too little, too late, this might not mean a damn thing to you, but for what it's worth...I am sorry. Truly sorry for how I've treated you, Severus," Sirius said, genuine contrite clear in his soft voice.

Severus shook his head sadly at the words.

"Don't bother with apologies, Black. It's silly at best and insulting at worst. We both know you've never cared for anyone but yourself," Severus said quietly, still eyeing his drink.

"You're right," Sirius nodded, admitting and accepting that sad truth about himself.

Severus stopped short at the foreign words emanating from the most unlikely of sources, eyeing Sirius with surprise.

"I must be losing what little mind I have left, I could've sworn you just agreed with me," Severus said, disbelieving.

"I did agree. Because this happens to be one of those rare moments when you are actually right, Severus. As much as it pains me to say," Sirius said as he bent toward Severus, holding his gaze.

"Before the final battle, for a long time, I felt...I felt like I had been...wronged. By my parents, by my brother, by Peter. I felt like my whole life I had been the injured party. And I waltzed around like a martyr. And you know what? It didn't do a damn bit of good."

"Didn't help anyone, me and my shitty, selfish behavior. I thought being an ass, being cruel it would make me feel better somehow...but I realized somewhere along the way...that I was becoming my father. Nothing but a bully; a selfish, cruel prick. And I hated that, more than I can ever say, because I always swore I would never become him," Sirius said, sadly shaking his head.

"I've survived a lot. Losing my friends, going to prison, hell, I even dodged death a few times. So it turns out that I'm not a victim, I'm actually a lucky son of a bitch. I'm lucky to even be here. I could've died many times over but I didn't. So I figure, the least I can do is...try and do better, be better. Try and make amends."

"Now isn't the time for self pity. Now is the time to help others survive. War has a twisted, horrible way of clarifying things. I've been a self-centered ass, I've hurt people. I can see that all now. And...I'm sorry...I'm so damn sorry. I'm trying to change," Sirius said sincerely.

Severus had been a spy for too long not to know truthfulness when it was staring him straight in face. And yet, as genuine and honest as Sirius was being, Severus couldn't take it to heart, not when his life lay in tatters, his death sentence all but certain.

What good would making amends do him now? A man doesn't change his ways as he walks to the gallows. Maybe if he had more time, if he had more life ahead of him...maybe things would be different, maybe he could be different. But his days were numbered and thinking about changing and living a different life were of little use to him now.

"People like you and I, Black, we don't change," Severus said, with a sad shake of his head, draining his mug, looking so very defeated.

"Well, perhaps you're right. Perhaps I'll never change...but I'm giving it a try anyway," Sirius said with a small, geniune smile.

Severus chuckled despite himself.

"Good for you, Black. Maybe there's hope for you yet," Severus said, with a small smile as his eyelids grew heavier, the alcohol warming his cold body and numbing him against the pain and sorrow deep in his old, broken heart.

Sirius reached forward and took the mug from Severus' pale hands.

"Get some rest, Severus. You need it," Sirius softly said.

"Yes, I need my precious beauty sleep. Want to look my best for the Dementors," Severus quipped as he leaned his head down and his heavy eyelids began to shut.

"Well, we'll see about that, Severus," Sirius said, ever the hopeful prat.

As Sirius reached forward and pulled the blankets up, Severus opened his eyes and looked at him and softly said, "Thank you...Sirius."

Sirius smiled as he felt the ice crack and thaw, ever so slightly.

"You're welcome, Severus."

And with that Severus slipped into an effortless sleep as Sirius returned to his silent vigil, a small smile playing across his tired face.

~~~~0000~~~~

Christmas came early for Rita Skeeter as she gleefully fled the courtroom. Shimming through a narrow gap at the bottom of the sealed courtroom doors, she discreetly reverted back to her human form, smoothed her hair and donned a mask of forced calm.

While the rest of the press pool was sequestered off in a side hallway, awaiting some official word on the trial and verdict, Rita already had her story written, thanks to a trusty wordless dicatation charm and her advantageous use of her unregistered animagus form.

Yes, the story of the decade would be hers and hers alone. If she hurried, she could make it back to her office in time for the printing of the evening edition. As she quickly passed her fellow compatriots and entered a waiting lift, Cecil Thrushman, from the International Wizarding Journal, noticed her and called out disbelieving, "You're not staying to hear the verdict, Rita?"

"No, Cecil. I do believe I have everything I need," she said, with a devilish smirk as the lift doors slid shut.

~~~~0000~~~~

The sun was setting in the clear sky as Severus began to wake once more. Slowly shifting and stirring in his bed, Sirius, still seated by his side, set his book down to attend once more to his charge.

"How are you feeling?" Sirius asked, as Severus fully opened his eyes.

"Not as terrible as earlier today. The rest helped," he begrudgingly admitted.

"Good. Well...still no word yet from Hermione, but I'm assuming they'll be back soon and with good news, I'm sure," Sirius said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Good news?" Severus repeated softly. "I wouldn't hold your breath."

The pair sat in silence, patiently waiting, one for good news and the other for doom.

As the six o'clock hour approached, the Floo flames lit up bright green and none other than Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped through, dusting off his robes, his face fixed in a tense frown. He was immediately followed by Elphias Doge, looking equally dour. The pair moved wordlessly to Severus' bedside.

Sirius immediately stood beside Severus, looking almost on the defensive, his body shielding Severus from the new visitors. The move was not lost on Severus and he would've smiled at the gesture had his heart not been clutched with pure terror.

Eying the two men approaching him, his heart thudded painfully in his chest. His destiny was walking to meet him and he felt dread rise in his throat with each footfall. This was it, this was the end, his end.

As they reached Severus' bedside, Elphias met Sirius gaze and uttered, "Pardon us, Mr. Black."

Sirius stepped aside but not without a good bit of reluctance, his arms crossed at his chest, looking anxious and worried.

Standing now before Severus, Elphias wordlessly pulled a thick parchment from his robe pocket, unfurled in and began to read its contents aloud.

"Severus Snape, as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, it is my duty to inform you that the court has reviewed all evidence in support of your defense and after a unanimous vote, you have been found not guilty on all charges. You are officially released from ministry custody and are here by granted a full pardon for any and all actions deemed illegal during the course of the Second Wizarding War," Elphias finished with a small smile.

Sirius let out the breath he had been holding all day as a huge grin broke out on his face. Kingsley let out a small chuckle and smiled, too.

Elphias stuck his hand out for Seveus, "I do hope you can accept the grateful thanks of our court and of me, personally."

His eyes wide with disbelief, his mouth dry, his heart beat pounding in his ears, Severus could only stare at the proffered hand with his mouth opened in shock.

"This isn't...this isn't possible. I was found _not guilty_?"

"Correct," replied Elphias.

"On _all_ charges?"

"Correct again."

"This simply isn't possible," Severus said, his head spinning like a top.

Elphias withdrew his hand, realizing that Severus was too shocked to accept it.

"Severus, if I'm being entirely honest with you...the members of the court, myself included, had you all but convicted before the trial began this morning. What with Albus' death and your presence at the final battle, we had thought your role in all this was pretty clear. But...that young Miss Granger...well, she put together quite an incredible defense. So compelling that even we couldn't deny your innocence," Elphias said with a small, sincere smile.

"Innocence?" Severus repeated, hardly grasping that such a word could be used to describe his actions.

"Yes," echoed Kingsley. "And in light of your tremendous sacrifice and service, we would also like to inform you that you have been awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class. You have the thanks of a grateful people," Kingsley said as he pulled a small silver box from his robes and handed it to Severus.

The potions master slowly opened the box to reveal a gleaming gold medal within, a thick, brilliant, emerald green ribbon attached to it to signify the highest level of honor. It was even engraved with his full name, the etched writing glowing bright white against the precious metal. He was holding the very medal that honored Merlin himself. Severus' breathing momentarily stopped as this new reality came crashing down atop him like a tsunami.

"No, no, sir," Severus said, his eyes wide with panic, the box trembling in his hands. "Kindly take this back and take me to Azkaban. There has been a terrible mistake. I'm not innocent. I did kill Albus. And many more. I don't deserve freedom. Please. Please, I'm asking you to reconvene the Wizengamot and vote once more. I simply can't be set free, I deserve prison," Severus pleaded, his voice almost hysterical.

Elphias, looking truly dumbfounded, turned to Kinglsey for some kind of explanation but the minister looked just as confused at the strange reaction as the head warlock.

"Severus, we are aware of your role in Albus' death as well as other crimes. But we're confident that your role as a spy forced you to make some hard decisions to protect that vital line of information," Elphias stated, trying to reason with the irrational man before him.

"I'm sorry but the court's decision is legally binding and final. You have been proven innocent and are free now. I'm, uh...I'm sorry if this isn't the news you wanted to hear," Elphias said, disbelieving that such good news was being taken so poorly.

Severus leaned his head back down, his eyes shut in anguish. No one was listening to him and it felt infuriating. He felt like a small child caught red-handed, being pat on the head and sent to bed with a treat instead of the harsh punishment he so richly deserved.

"You don't understand. I need to go to prison. That's the only place I belong," he said sadly, tears falling down his pale cheeks as he snapped the small box, and all its meaning, firmly shut.

Kingsley sat down beside him, his own tired eyes full of understanding.

"Severus, we've prosecuted and convicted over seventy death eaters these past few weeks. And do you know what each of them had in common? They enjoyed what they had done. Each innocent soul they murdered, each woman they raped, each curse they ruthlessly uttered, was done gleefully. These were people who jumped at the chance to cause destruction and pain. The same can not be said for you," Kingsley said, sounding like the wise and seasoned minister the world so desperately needed.

"I watched Charity Burbage die," Severus said, his voice cracking as he looked the new minister in the eye.

"An agonizing, painful death, right before my very eyes. She begged me for her life, _begged me to stop it._ And I just...I just let her perish. Just so I could maintain my cover. I'm not worthy of this pardon, I'm really not," Severus said, wanting so desperately to be understood.

Kingsley nodded and let out a heavy sigh before speaking.

"Severus, war is absolute horror...and there are times during war when we are called upon to do the unthinkable. What you did...it was done for the greater good, man. Any harm you engaged in, wasn't because you wanted to, it was because you had to. That distinction may not seem like much, but our intentions matter, Severus. It's what makes the difference between a monster and a man. And you, Severus, are the latter."

"I disagree, sir," Severus replied, his whole body numb from the shock of it all.

"Severus, we understand now. Hermione helped show us, she pieced everything together. We know why you did all the things you did. This will take some time to adjust to, but...you do deserve freedom. In time, I hope you can see that," Kingsley said, feeling anguished that one of their own should be so broken, so crushed by this horrific war.

"Try and rest now. Take care of yourself, Severus," Kingsley said as he offered the bedridden man a warm pat on the shoulder and rose to leave with Doge following.

As the pair approached the Floo, the flames lit up green and out stepped Remus and Harry, both smiling and talking excitedly. They were quickly followed by an equally happy Minerva and Poppy, then Neville, Luna and a more subdued Draco. Ron followed next and Hermione was the last to come through, a warm smile shining on her young, eager face.

It was her smile that did it. She looked so happy, so very pleased with herself. It snapped something deep inside him, something ugly and cruel that was howling to be set free.

"You! This is all your doing!" Severus bellowed from across the room as he locked eyes with the young witch, pointing an accusatory finger at her.

The cheerful, chatty group immediately quieted as all eyes fell on the potions master and the young woman he was yelling at.

Her smile immediately faded as she took in the sight of him. Everyone and everything fell away in that moment and it felt like they had the room all to themelsves, their eyes locked, his gaze heated and fierce. She had thought she had seen him angry before, but those moments were mere child's play as she realized this was truly Severus Snape at his most rageful.

She swallowed hard at the wrath that met her. She forcibly peeled her eyes away from him for a moment to see the dour expressions on Kingsley and Doge, "He didn't take it very well then, did he?", she asked in a hush tone. But before they could answer, Severus did.

"You're god damn right I didn't! How dare you!", he raged, his throat constricting at the effort to shout with such force.

Remus and Harry were both stepping forward to try and offer explanations but Hermione stopped them both with a gentle hand as she stepped forward in their place. This had been her idea, her fight to win, and she alone would be the one to take the brunt of his wrath.

"Sir. If you'll allow me, I can explain," Hermione said in a conciliatory tone, slowly, cautiously approaching him.

"I told you yesterday that I did not want to be defended! Why did you disobey me!?", he screeched.

"Severus, try and calm down, she was only trying to help," Sirius said but his quiet words fell on deaf ears.

"Answer me, girl!", he shouted once more.

"Sir, you told me not to use your memories, not that I couldn't defend you," Hermione offered as gently as possible.

His blood boiled at her words. This was all her fault, all her doing. She cost him his penance and she was going to pay dearly for it.

"You just couldn't help yourself, could you, Miss Granger?!", he spat. "Couldn't pass up the chance to help a charity case? I am not some house elf in need of your assistance! You had no right to go against my wishes!"

"Sir, you are not a charity case. You deserved our support today," Hermione adamantly said, standing her ground as best she could.

"You foolish girl! Do you realize what you have done!?", Severus spat as his heart clenched at this painful new reality.

"Severus, we know this is a lot to take in but please...try and understand. Hermione was just trying to clear your name, rightfully so," Minerva offered, as she slowly stepped forward to defend her cub.

The potions master shook his head at the words but never took his eyes off of Miss Granger.

"You arrogant, meddling, presumptuous, insufferable know-it-all! Get out of my sight and take that with you!", he spat as he threw the medal across the room and it skidded to a halt at her feet.

The room, and its many occupants, were absolutely silent as they took in the crushing sight before them. Hermione, their brave, fearless, devoted friend who battled injustice wherever she went, looked absolutely defeated, her shoulders stooped as her warm, brown eyes filled with tears.

Her heart wretched apart at the very seams as she wordlessly crouched down and picked up the medal. She held it, reverentially, in her small hands, marveling at its weight and beauty before quietly slipping it into her pocket. Although she truthfully felt like curling up into a ball on the floor, she reluctantly straightened up with all eyes on her. She strode slowly to his bedside, her own eyes downcast, shame and humiliation rushing through her like a powerful drug.

Standing right before him, avoiding his gaze, she pulled out a thin vial of misty blue memories from her robes and laid it carefully on his bedside table.

"Your memories, sir, as you requested," she said softly, her beautiful voice cracking with sorrow.

Atop it, she set down the evening edition of the _Daily Prophet_ with the banner, " _Severus Snape Found Not Guilty!"_

"You should really give it a read," she softly uttered as tears streamed down her flushed face. "Rita Skeeter got it right, for once," she said, a sad smile tugging at her pink lips.

She tore her eyes away from the paper and lifted her head to finally look at him. Her tear-filled eyes met rageful black ones. Eyes she had dreamt of, eyes she had hoped would one day look at her with wonder and love, now only held hate and loathing. She swallowed hard at the realization that they would only ever bare hatred towards her and never love. She shut her eyes tight against the crushing pain, turned on her heel and swept wordlessly from the infirmary.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: So many beautiful, heartfelt reviews for the last chapter, I'm absolutely bowled over by your response. I'm so glad it was enjoyed. A million thank you's, as always, for all the love! Fingers crossed that my muse stays with me :)**

 **Another long one below, my apologies. There's just so damn much I want to fit in, so forgive me for my profound inability to be short & to-the-point :)**

* * *

 _You have played,  
(I think)  
And broke the toys you were fondest of,  
And are a little tired now;  
Tired of things that break, and—  
Just tired.  
So am I._

 _― E.E. Cummings_

As the infirmary doors banged shut, Severus closed his eyes as pure self-loathing washed over him, filling him up. He suddenly found it hard to breathe.

He braced himself for the onslaught that was coming. Like inky, black storm clouds rolling in through a clear, blue sky, Severus could feel it approaching, could feel all their anger and rage building to a fever pitch and he knew he couldn't escape it, not that he deserved such a reprieve.

His head bowed in shame, his eyes closed, he reverted back to the safe cocoon of silence as those exquisite, brown eyes, danced before his own, brimming with a ocean full of unspent tears.

Why anger? Why would that be his first response to the enormous gift he was just granted?

It was his goddamn, horrible, rotten temper. He could thank his father for it. He had felt angry at himself and what did he do? He lashed out at the least deserving person, just like his father would have done.

His mind swam with the sight of her tearstained face, her eyes so full of sorrow and pain. She had pulled him back from the precipice, using only her brave heart and good intentions to accomplish such a remarkable feat; talk about incredible magic.

Witches and wizards talked of magic as if they knew. As if such a word could be summed up with flashy spells and potions and clever charms. No, real magic was doing the impossible, with every odd stacked against you, and that was just what Miss Granger had done today.

Yes, he deserved the lashing that what was coming his way.

He could hear it all so very clearly. All the yelling and screaming, blending together into a single chorus of hatred, seeping into his very bones. He sat in silence as he felt every occupant of the room lay into him, letting loose years worth of anger, disappointment and betrayal upon him like a relentless flood, knowing no end.

 _"How dare you!"_

 _"She defended you!"_

 _"We could've let you rot, you know?"_

 _"I'm so disappointed in you."_

 _"What a bastard you are!"_

 _"That was a cheap shot, Severus, even for you."_

 _"What is wrong with you, man?!"_

What, indeed? Such a good question. What was wrong with him, he idly wondered? So many things, he hardly knew where to begin.

The acerbic words spun 'round and 'round his mind, like a marble trapped in a closed loop, feeding off its own momentum, unable to find an escape. Every nasty, horrible statement was harsh and soul crushing, yet sadly, he realized, full of truth.

He drew a shaky breath and finally opened his eyes, fully expecting rageful faces, maybe even a slap to the face. And yet he was greeted with a surprising sight indeed. A dozen pair of eyes staring at him, with a curious lack of anger.

Sadness, understanding, sympathy shone from their eyes but not anger. As his eyes drifted across the silent crowd, from Poppy and Minerva to Lupin and Mr. Potter, from Mr. Longbottom and Draco, to Kingsley and Doge, he realized that all the terrible things rushing through his mind hadn't come from the good people surrounding him. No, those terrible words had come from within himself, from his own tortured mind.

Everyone was silent, watching the stricken potions master with disappointment and pity, sorrow and exhaustion. Everyone, that is, except for Ron.

"Hermione, wait!" Ron yelled to no avail.

"How dare you speak to her that way!" Ron shouted, as he turned his rageful gaze upon Snape, his hands balled into tight, angry fists.

Ah...good, old, reliable Ronald Weasley. Severus knew he could always count on the young hothead to go with his gut and react out of anger. And Severus wanted that anger, craved it, in fact. The rich, sweet burn of hatred was exactly what Severus needed. His own shame and self-loathing wasn't enough to get the job done. He needed all their wrath, too. He needed to gather up their pain and disappointment, their hatred and anguish and then push them all away. Once alone, he could build his very own prison right here; no cell or warden needed, their words of damnation would do just fine.

"She stuck her neck out for you and that's all the thanks she gets?! You're a real prick, you know that?" Ron spat, his face contorted with anger, his jaw clenched tight as he strode forward to stare down the man he once feared.

"As a matter of fact, I did, Mister Weasley," Severus said softly, as self-hatred wormed its way through his heart.

"Some fucking hero you turned out to be," Ron spat as he turned on his heel.

"I'm going to check on 'Mione," Ron called out as he strode toward the door. He paused for a moment, and turned to find Luna and asked, "She's staying in Gryffindor tower, right?"

Luna nodded her head once as Ron thundered out the door, the heavy doors banging shut in his wake.

Harry made to follow after Ron but stopped as Sirius gently grabbed his arm. The animagus knew how much Hermione would be hurting and knew that she wouldn't appreciate an audience.

The assembled crowd was still stunned into silence from the multiple outbursts and Severus knew this was his chance.

Their sympathy and understanding simply wouldn't do. He needed the pure, raw hatred, the same he had received his whole life, from his father, from the marauders, from Tom Riddle. It's all he knew and he needed it now more than ever.

He wanted to be hated, reviled and tossed aside like the filth he truly was. He wanted to fill himself with it, drown from the weight of it. And he knew this particular group was certainly up to the task for he had given them plenty of ammunition over the years.

Insults, backstabs, outright cruelty; he had done it all to them, rotten bastard that he was. It had all been committed in order to maintain his cover among his Slytherins and their Death Eater parents, but that would matter little to these people.

These people who set store by honor and truth and decency.

These people who would rather bite off their own tongues than willingly betray a friend or hurt an innocent.

They were too good, too pure-hearted. If they truly knew the man they had just defended, they certainly wouldn't be standing here patting him on the back. They could never understand or explain away the atrocities he had committed. His intentions, no matter how noble they may have seemed, wouldn't matter.

No. They could never truly grasp the depths to which he had sunk to over the long, lonely years. Depths that stripped you of your humanity, trapping you deep within their clutches and rendering you inhumane. He had crossed too many bridges to arrive here, he couldn't simply turn around and walk back. Life was never that simple.

And to add painful insult to profound injury, he had just needlessly shamed Hermione Granger; the beloved Gryffindor princess, the brightest witch of her age, the witch with a heart of pure gold who had just saved him from a certain death, although he couldn't for the life of him understand why she had done it. Surely, her nearest and dearest wouldn't let him get away with that. His reckoning was coming and he wanted it.

"That was uncalled for, sir," Harry finally said, his mouth set in a frown, his words tinged with sadness rather than anger.

Severus was momentarily shocked by the young man's civility, given the circumstances. Severus had expected the same angry outburst as his redheaded friend. But apparently Potter had matured some in this last year.

But Severus didn't want civility and so he pressed on, his track having been decided upon, it was certainly too late to change course now. No, he would spew forth hatred until he received the same in return.

"Uncalled for? That's the best you can manage, Potter?", Severus spat, his lips curled in a cruel, dismissive sneer, his eyes glittering with anger. "Did you really expect anything different from me?"

Harry's eyes narrowed ever so slightly at the acerbic words, annoyance flashing across his face. The movement was not lost on Severus.

 _Ah, yes, now we're getting somewhere,_ he thought with grim satisfaction. _Give me all you've got, Potter._

"Sir," Harry countered with some forced calm, "if it's my hatred you're after, I'm sorry to say I will have to disappoint you because you won't receive it, not anymore. I'm thankful, sir, truly grateful for all you've done. This war would've been lost long ago without your bravery. I would've never survived without you. Thank you, Professor," Harry offered truthfully, his green eyes bearing only sincerity.

 _No, dear Merlin, no. Not gratitude. Anything but that,_ Severus thought with a heavy heart.

Even the saccharine sting of pity would be better than being appreciated. The last thing he deserved was praise and he would be damned if he would accept it.

"You can stuff your gratitude, Potter! I don't want it," he spat, his eyes full of rage.

"You may not want it, sir," said Luna, her dreamy voice cutting through the tension-filled air, "but you do deserve it."

"She's right," piped up Neville beside her, "you've suffered under a crushing weight, one you bore alone. We're sorry we didn't...that we _couldn't_ understand your role in all this sooner. We could've helped," Neville said earnestly, standing tall and boldly holding his ground against the man who had tormented him for years.

Lupin and Black nodded in agreement while Minerva and Poppy gazed upon Severus with maternal concern. It would seem they were all here to support him, thank him, accept him as he was and that left him feeling paralyzed with rage.

What in the bloody hell was wrong with these people? Didn't they know who he really was? Perhaps they needed a subtle reminder.

"You all think you've done some noble deed today? Well, let me assure you, you haven't," Severus spat, eyeing them with disdain. "I'm a murderer, plain and simple and you should've left me to rot. I can not believe you would've let Miss Granger talk you into such a foolish endeavor," he growled, earning him several shocked stares.

"Severus, please. Be reasonable," said Minerva, leaning heavily on her cane, looking pained.

"Uncle, please," Draco implored, stepping forward and piping up for the first time since he entered the room.

"Don't let this anger you. The world deserved to know just how much you sacrificed. You saved me and countless others. You can't really believe you deserved prison?" Draco asked, looking truly incredulous.

"You spoiled little brat! You don't get to tell me how I feel! None of you do! You don't know a goddamn thing about me!" Severus roared.

Severus realized he could bear no more. If they couldn't oblige him with the hatred he craved, the least they could do was piss off and leave him to rot in peace.

"Get out! All of you!" Severus raged, hating being stuck in this bed, in this room, trapped like an injured animal.

At this, the whole room seemed to erupt at once, everyone yelling and talking adamently, trying to shake the potions master loose of his delusional thought.

"You're just upset! You need to calm down!", said Kingsley.

"Poppy, he needs a calming draught, he's clearly hysterical!", tried Remus.

"I would've died without you, can't you see the good you've done?!" said Harry.

"This is actually good news, you know!?", said Doge, still completely flummoxed.

"You could try and be grateful!", spat Minerva.

Everyone seemed to be screaming at once, getting absolutely nowhere, neither side willing to concede that the other could possibly be right. It was finally Sirius' voice that rose above the din and a bought everyone's attention.

"ENOUGH!" Sirius bellowed, earning him some much appreciated silence.

"Look, everyone," he said more softly, "it's been a very long day and we're all on edge. I don't think screaming is going to do a damn bit of good, so why don't we call it night. I think everyone could use some food and some sleep. And hopefully this will all make a bit more sense in the morning," Sirius said with a pointed glance to Severus, who looked pale and morose.

Everyone seemed too exhausted, too mentally and physically spent to put up much of a fight after the stressful day they had all faced, especially Severus who honestly felt so very weak and agitated, confusion and uncertainty clouding his thoughts.

Poppy took this as her cue to start hustling the many visitors back the way they came as the infirmary began to slowly empty.

Kingsley and Doge, made a quick exit via the Floo and headed back to the ministry, citing mountains of paperwork that still needed their attention.

Neville and Luna departed quickly thereafter, hand-in-hand, quietly headed off to the kitchens to grab some much needed dinner.

Remus cast a quick _Tempus_ charm and knew that Andromeda had been expecting him over an hour ago. He gave Sirius a quick nod, knowing they would meet shortly back at home and headed off thru the Floo to pick up his son.

Sirius helped Minerva slowly cross the room and sit on an empty bed while Poppy fetched Minerva's many nightly medications. As Minerva downed her healing potions, the trio spoke in hushed tones, with Minerva looking quite tired and pale, the day's events having taken a heavy toll on the ailing headmistress.

That left only Harry and Draco, standing before the Floo. Another odd pair of old enemies, suddenly finding themselves in new territory, without a clue as to how to behave.

Unsure of what to say to one another, Draco finally offered a polite nod to Harry and grabbed a pinch of Floo powder from the mantle to depart. As he stepped close to the flames, Harry called out, "Draco?"

The pure-blood turned with surprise, still unaccustomed to hearing his name come from the gryffindor's lips.

"Draco...it was...it was good of you to come today. You and your mother were amazing in fact, and you've both done a lot of good. I just wanted to say...thank you. Thank you for doing this. It meant a lot to Hermione and...to me," Harry said sincerely.

Draco eyed Harry a moment, so very unaccustomed to not having to be on the defense.

He stepped closer to Harry and said softly, "Potter...Harry, I needed to do this today. Granger was right, without my uncle, I don't think I'd be alive right now. He saved me...in so many ways. As did you," Draco said, swallowing hard, his face open and unguarded in a way Harry had never seen before.

"I just...I..." Draco began and then suddenly stopped, gathering his courage. "Thank you, Harry. You saved me that night, in the room of requirement. You could've let me burn alive and you didn't. I am in your debt."

Draco stuck out his hand, a sign of both gratitude and respect. Harry took it and the pair shook, a small semblance of understanding passing between the pair.

"I don't believe in debts," said Harry.

Draco cracked a small smile at this. "That's because you're a Gryffindor. Slytherins believe otherwise. We don't leave a debt unpaid," he said, this time a bit more loudly, his eyes moving and locking with Severus'. "I was taught better than that."

If the words bothered Severus, he didn't show it. He merely averted his gaze once more and sat in silence.

Pulling his focus back to Harry, Draco offered, "So if there is anything you ever need, if it's within my power to give, you'll have it," Draco said resolutely.

Stunned by the generous offer, Harry decided to be bold as well and offer his childhood enemy a life raft, of sorts.

"Well, as a matter of fact, there is something I need," said Harry. "I think Hermione could use some help around here. I plan on coming in more but we could use all the help we can get. There's so much work that needs to be done still if we want to fix this place and well...Could I convince you to come and stay here? Help us rebuild? Your mother would of course be welcome to stay as well," Harry offered with a smile.

Draco wasn't sure if Harry knew of his financial troubles, and couldn't decide if this was an offer made out of pity or friendship. Draco was a smart, calculating man and he hated not being able to pin down someone's motivation and under any other circumstances, he would've dismissed the offer. But at that moment, Draco decided he didn't care why Harry was making this gesture, for in truth, he was no position to turn it down.

"Yes. Yes, I do believe I can arrange that. Allow me to coordinate a few things and discuss this with my mother. But...yes, I do believe we will able to stay here and help," Draco offered as he felt a heavy weight lift from his shoulders.

"Good. Thank you, Draco," Harry said with a warm smile.

" _Thank you_ , Harry," Draco offered with a small, genuine smile.

And off Draco disappeared in a whirl of emerald flames leaving Harry to wait for Sirius. Harry turned from the flames to see McGonagall offer him a warm, knowing smile, pride shining in her eyes at her young cub's gracious way of offering kindness, even to someone he had considered an enemy for many years.

As Draco departed and Poppy helped Minerva off to bed, Sirius gestured to a waiting Harry that he would be just one moment longer. Sirius walked purposely towards Severus and as he bent down and gathered his belongings, his head dipped and his voice dropped so only Severus could hear him. His words were soft yet firm, leaving no room for interpretation.

"Stop this. Stop this right now, Severus. _We are not your enemies,"_ he said, emphatically, finally catching the potions master's obsidian eyes.

Severus stared at Sirius, his eyes bearing such pain but he remained silent.

"Everyone here today, spoke for you, stood up for you, put their name on the line to defend you. He's gone now, Severus, there's no one left to fight," said Sirius, his own eyes shining such concern.

"I understand why you snapped, truly I do. No one else in this room, knows what's like to face what you were facing today. But make no mistake, I do not condone what you just did. They didn't deserve your sharp tongue and neither did Hermione. You don't get to yell at her like that, you understand me? You pull that shit again and I won't come to your rescue," Sirius said resolutely, his words firm yet lacking their usual bite.

"It won't happen again," Severus said, his eyes downcast, blood rushing through his head, feeling lightheaded and weak, the tide of shame and anger rolling in and out of him like ocean waves.

"Good, see that it doesn't," Sirius said straightening up.

As he turned to leave, Severus finally spoke and his words stopped Sirius in his tracks.

"I don't know what in the hell I'm supposed to do now. She just...she's taken my only chance at penance," Severus offered softly, trying to justify his atrocious behavior.

"No, Severus she hasn't taken anything from you. If anything, she's given you a shot at a real life, one actually worth living. Don't piss this away, Severus. This is your chance to fix things, be better. Believe me, we don't get many do-overs. You said men like us don't change, but I think you're wrong, we can change. We just have to take the chances we're given and don't blow them."

"I don't belong here anymore, I never really did," Severus said sadly.

"You have to try Severus, no one else can make you want to live. You have to find that will, but it's in there. Always has been, trust me."

"I don't think it's been there for a very long time," he stated as tears brimmed in his tired eyes.

Sirius sighed, knowing what a long road this would be for Severus. He wished he could spare him the pain, but it was something that Severus would have to parse through on his own. Sirius gave a small nod of understanding and squeezed his shoulder as he stood up straight.

"You think about what I said today. Really think on my words. I'll be back in the morning to check on you."

With that, Sirius strode to the Floo to meet an incredulous Harry.

"Why is he doing this? Can't he see he's innocent?" Harry whispered.

The pair disappeared into the Floo and landed in Grimmauld Place. Alone together in the library, Sirius finally spoke once more.

"Harry, it's a lot more complicated than you can ever imagine. The guilt he's carried...it doesn't just go away because your name gets cleared, believe me. You think I still don't blame myself for your parents' deaths, because I do. Everyday that guilt pains me, haunts me."

"Sirius, no one blames you. I certainly don't. It wasn't your fault!" Harry said honestly.

"Harry, that's all well and good for you to say, but that doesn't make the guilt magically disappear. It's still with me, probably always will be," Sirius offered as he settled into a green wingback chair with Harry settling across from him.

"I know you're a grown man but sometime when I look at you, I see that little baby I let down. I did so many things wrong, Harry, one terrible choice after another and sometimes I can feel the weight of it all upon me. It's a terrible burden to shake. And truthfully that's alright, by me. I don't want to forget my mistakes, I need to remember them so I don't repeat them. But I've learned to also move on and try and focus that pain everyday to do some good."

"Severus will get there too, he just has to forgive himself. Has to let that guilt go. And that's something he'll have to find within himself. It's there, he just can't see it yet. He'll have to do in his own way, in his own time. So have a little patience, lord knows your father was famous for it," Sirius said with a smirk.

Harry nodded and offered a small smile, hoping that his godfather was right.

 _~~~~0000~~~~_

Hermione raced through the castle, tears blinding her eyes, her chest clenched tight with pain and humiliation. She soon found herself before the entrance to the Great Hall, its eerie hollowness stopping her dead in her tracks. With the ceiling completely torn away, the waxing moon was high in the sky and filled the hall with sharp, bright light. She realized that someone would no doubt come looking for her soon and would likely head to her room to try and find her. But she simply couldn't see anyone right now, couldn't bear their pity or hear their niceties. Staying here, for now, seemed like the safest bet to have some privacy.

Slowing walking into the silent hall, the heels of her dress shoes clicking against the stone, the wind quietly whistling though the gaping holes in the walls, it didn't feel like Hogwarts at all, not anymore. She waded through debris and dirt and found her way to the front of the hall. Her eyes sore and red, her body quickly tiring, she slid to a heap onto the filthy floor against the far wall, her small frame cloaked in shadows. She felt the discarded medal thud against the stone as she sat down and wearily pulled it from her pocket.

Alone now, she could examine it closely and marvel at its beauty. She had never seen anything like it before; shining a brilliant pure gold, heavy and rare, it symbolized the highest honor in their society. It was a precious, sacred thing, an honor that most would've killed for and yet it had been thrown away, it was unwanted and unappreciated...just like herself.

She fought for this and yet, it meant nothing. Not a goddamn thing. All this work, all this struggling...all for naught. She swallowed hard as she realized that maybe it was time to stop fighting for things that didn't matter to anyone but herself.

She glanced around the decimated hall and at the destruction that greeted her. Everything was still so broken, so shattered, even though she had working so hard. It hit her hard then, like a swift smack to the face; maybe these broken things couldn't be fixed, maybe they were beyond repair. Maybe she needed to stop trying so hard.

All the wooden boards from the destroyed house tables had been stacked against the crumbled front wall. This was the wall that had once been all stained glass, stretching right up from the floor clear to the heavens. It had bathed the hall in brilliant colorful light each and every day, filling all her lovely memories of the space with color and warmth. Now it was completely destroyed, the exquisite glass crushed and shattered, the hall now dark and gray.

She carefully stood and approached the pile and began to slowly climb atop the wooden boards, her high heels slipping and catching against the jagged, broken wood. Clawing her way up the steep mound, splinters digging deep in her calloused hands, she just managed to make it to the top of the pile and grab ahold of the edge of the stone. Peering over the crumbling wall, she could see clear across the darkened castle grounds and spotted the the glistening lake down below. The black water shimmering with moonlight, its surface dancing lightly with the gentle brush of the wind.

Peering down from her perch, her heart racing, aching, the night wind wiping her hair around, she looked down at the medal still clutched in her hand and realized that she couldn't stand to look at it any longer, let alone hold it.

He didn't want it, he never would, in fact. And there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

Without pausing to think a single second longer, she clutched the medal tight in her palm and then using all her might, she flung it far into the night. Breathless, she watched as it soared through the black sky, the gold glinting against the moonlight, the green ribbon whipping like a kite's tail. She felt a grim satisfaction as she heard it hit the water with a distinct splash, causing ripples that danced and jetted off in every direction across the lake's surface.

She could imagine it sinking, diving quickly and deeply into the black depths, to live for all eternity in the muddy water.

Finally free of the heavy medal, she carefully climbed down from the mound and suddenly found herself so very tired. She walked to the very center of the hall and laid down on the filthy floor. Bathed in soft moonlight, staring straight into the night sky, she wept with all her heart. She cried for lost innocence, lost friends, but most of all she wept not for the broken things but for the things that would never come to be. Things that died before they even had a chance to exist.

 _~~~~0000~~~~_

As Sirius and Harry departed, Severus felt thankful to finally be alone. He laid his spinning head down to try and quell his racing mind but much to his consternation, Poppy entered the infirmary once more, looking spiteful, her eyes meeting his with equal fire.

"It's time for your medicine," she said through gritted teeth, snatching several vials from atop her desk and briskly approaching his bedside.

"I'm not some child you can bully, Poppy. I won't be taking anything you have to offer so leave me alone!" he spat.

Her lips twisted into a cruel, spiteful smirk, the likes of which Severus had never seen before.

"Ah, going to yell at me, now are you? Go on then, give it all you've got. Rant and rave till your throat gives out. I can take it," she said, lips pursed in anger.

"Get out!", he screamed.

"No, this is my infirmary, I'm not going anywhere," she said defiantly.

"Fine, then I'll leave," he said, pulling his sheets aside, making as if he could stand after everything he'd been through in the past day.

"Oh, really? You have severe neuropathy in both legs and acute nerve damage on your right side, where exactly will you mange to go on your own?", she asked rhetorically.

"Home. I do have one you know. I'll get there just fine," he said bluffing, sitting up once more with great difficulty, his face contorting from the considerable pain.

"And just how will you manage to get there?", she asked in mock curiosity.

As much as he longed to escape this castle and all the insufferable do-gooders within it, he found he couldn't even move his legs at this point with painful cramps seizing the sinewy muscles tight, the pain rolling through him in waves. He was well and truly trapped and it felt infuriating. He couldn't walk, couldn't take a piss alone, clean himself or heal on his own. He would have to accept help, at least from Poppy and relying on others had never been his strong suit. His anger bubbled once more at his plight.

"Just get out!", he screamed, his body falling back onto his bed with thud.

"No. No more, Severus. You can't hide from me, young man," she said firmly, standing before him. "Just how many more chances do you think you'll get?"

"Who said I wanted another chance!? Everyone seems to know what's best for me! Did you ever think about what I want?!", he roared.

"And just what is you want?", she asked calmly, her arms crossed, eyes bright with anger.

"To be left to rot! I've earned that right! But you self-righteous do-gooders just had to intervene didn't you?! God damn you people for helping me! God damn Albus and Lily! And god damn Miss Granger, above all else!", he roared, his chest heaving from the effort.

"I don't want this! I don't want any of this! I never wanted to survive!", he said sadly.

"Well, that's just too damn bad, because you're here now," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Please, please...Don't remind me," he said, shutting his eyes against that painful reality.

"So that's it then? You're just going to piss about like a spoiled brat. After everything we've done for you?"

If Poppy could've breathed fire, she would have. Her eyes alight with anger, her jaw clamped shut, she turned and strode wordlessly to her medicine cabinet and jerked open the door to reveal rows upon rows on iridescent potions. Her hands immediately found what they were looking for and clasped several vials of ruby red potion and strode to Severus' bedside, her face like thunder.

"Don't want to live, do you?! Fine! Take these!", she spat, picking up his one good hand and roughly shoving the vials into this grasp.

Severus was too shocked to speak or move. His silence only further enraged the mediwitch.

"Take them!", she yelled. "Three vials of lionfish bile aught to do it. A man your size and in such a weak state, that should stop your heart within a minute."

He stared at the vials, his pale fingers caressing the smooth glass. His ticket to freedom, his ticket home.

"Swallow them and be done with this world...be done with us, you fucking coward!", she roared, her face stained beet red with anger.

"I am not a coward," he said, his voice low, his throat closing tight from the rush of overwhelming emotions.

"Oh, really? Then prove it," she spat. "Stop thinking only of yourself and realize that maybe you were saved for a reason! Maybe you have a purpose, a calling," she said angrily.

He sat in silence, and turned his head away, not wanting to hear her words of fate and calling. She let out a heavy sigh at this and settled onto the stool beside him, looking thoroughly worn-out and disgusted.

She shook her head sadly at the pitiful man laying before her.

"You know, Severus, existing is tricky, but living's a gift. A gift that many would happily take we're they given the opportunity you were."

"I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to be saved," he said softly, desperate to be understood.

"And yet, you were. Don't you see how lucky you are? We lost so many, Severus. You weren't awake to see it...", she offered, turning to look out the window and stare into the night sky, her anger draining.

"The Weasleys' lost Fred and Remus lost Nymphadora. Their son is only two months old, I don't know if you know that. His child will never know his mother," she said softly.

"Parvati...Lavender...Collin...all perished. So young, so goddamn foolish and goodhearted and brave. They had their whole lives ahead of them," she said, shaking her head sadly.

"Minerva and I...we were the ones who had to identify their bodies and then go and tell their parents. We had to sit in their living rooms, and drink their tea and tell them their babies wouldn't be coming home. They had to bury their children, Severus...can you even imagine the horror of that?", she asked, now looking at him, tears spilling down her cheeks.

He met her gaze and sadly shook his head.

"Let me ask you something Severus, how do you think you ended up here, in the infirmary? After the battle, how do you think you arrived here?" Poppy asked, anger still painting her pale cheeks a flushed pink.

"For fuck's sake, Poppy, what does it matter?", he asked sounding so very defeated.

"It actually matters a great deal," she said quietly, pulling the stool up close so she could hold his gaze, "so I want you to take a moment and a really think about that night. Think about all the things that needed to happen for you to go from bleeding to death in that shack to finding yourself here in this bed, being nursed back to life."

He blew out an exasperated sigh at being treated this way. Being talked down to.

"I don't know, Poppy. I really haven't given it much thought," he answered dryly, avoiding her gaze.

"Of course, you haven't, you selfish bastard. Too busy wallowing in self-pity," she said pointedly.

His head snapped up at her harsh words and eyed her with open hostility.

"Excuse me? That's out of line, Poppy," he said, his temper flaring at her rude remarks.

"No, it isn't. It's merely fact. Come now, Severus. Placate an old woman, why don't you? Hazard a guess as to how you got back to the castle," she demanded, her mouth set in a firm, hard line.

"I don't know, Poppy. You must have come and retrieved me at some point," he said, his arms crossed in annoyance.

"Do you really think I went traipsing to that decrepit shack in the middle of a battle to bring you back here?", she asked with an uncharacteristic smirk.

"I can assure you, Severus, I did no such thing," she answered firmly.

This stopped him. The brief moments he had thought about his rescue, his memory felt clouded and he had trouble recalling exactly what had happened. He simply assumed it had been Poppy or some auror who had found him and brought him to the castle.

Suddenly thinking back to those terrifying moments, when he was drifting in and out of consciousness, his mind cleared and he suddenly remembered something...it had been a woman who had stopped his bleeding and she had called him 'professor'. Her caring voice, her warm hands on his skin. It all came crashing atop him as realization hit him.

"If it wasn't you, then...then it must have been...", he said softly, his mouth dry, his eyes wide with recognition.

"That's right. It was Hermione who saved you. She's the one who cauterized your wound in the shack and stopped you from bleeding to death. When Voldemort was dead, it was she who risked life and limb to get back to you and bring you to the castle for proper treatment."

"She was the one who saved me in the shack? She...she didn't tell me," he said disbelieving, his voice softening at the nurse's stunning admission.

"Of course, she didn't tell you. She has a good, humble heart, not that you would notice. She no doubt didn't want you to feel beholden to her."

Poppy shook her head angrily at the man before her, her disappointment and bitterness finally bubbling to the surface.

"She has dressed your wounds, read to you, held your hand when you had night terrors. That woman, that insufferable know-it-all, as you've so cruelly referred to her all these years, is the only reason you're still alive!" Poppy yelled, standing up and glowering at Severus, her body shaking with rage.

"And how do you repay her?! By shaming her and degrading her, in front of a crowd no less!"

"You can hate yourself all you want, Severus. Wallow in it for all I care, but don't you dare think for one second that you can treat that wonderful woman with such disregard."

"She didn't need to save you, heal you, care for you or work to clear your name!" Poppy roared.

"But she did it all the same," he said quietly, looking at his hand still clasping the three vials, shame working its way through him.

"That she did. So maybe, just maybe, you could stop thinking only of yourself for a single goddamn moment and scrape together a small drop of appreciation for that poor girl. She's lost both parents, many friends, and her entire youth to this bloody war, don't think she isn't hurting too!", she raged.

"Poppy, I'm...I am truly sorry," he offered, unaccustomed to uttering such words, his eyes meeting hers with sincerity.

She leaned close to him, her rage barely contained, "I'm not the one you need to apologize to."

He nodded, willingly suffering her wrath as a small penance.

"I...I wasn't thinking about her or anyone else for that matter. I simply didn't know, Poppy," he offered as a feeble explanation for his deplorable behavior.

"Well...now you do," she said with a disapproving glare as she stood and swept away to restock her medicine cabinet, leaving a thoroughly anguished potions master in her wake.

Alone once more, he eyed the vials still clutched in his pale hands. The escape they offered suddenly didn't seem like such a blessing. They truly were the coward's way out and he realized that he neither wanted nor deserved the easy way.

He blew out a heavy sigh and gently deposited the vials on his bedside table and reached instead for the _Daily Prophet_ and began to read of the day's amazing news.

 _Severus Snape Found Not Guilty: Secret Double-Agent Awarded Order or Merlin, First Class_

 _In a shocking turn of events, Severus Snape, known Death Eater and murderer of Albus Dumbledore, was found not guilty today of aiding and abetting Lord Voldemort and was furthermore awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class, for his unparalleled sacrifice and allegiance to the wizarding world._

 _Evidence and testimonies from multiple sources painted a convincing portrait of a man often misunderstood and maligned. These rare glimpses showed a more humane and deeply committed side to Severus Snape, one not often seen by many._

 _Minerva McGonagall, current Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, took the witness stand first and spoke of a dedicated man who put the needs and safety of students above his own as he served as spy and secret double-agent for the Light since the end of the First Wizarding War._

 _Poppy Pomfrey, mediwitch of Hogwarts, provided medical records dating back twenty years showing dozens of injuries Mr. Snape endured as a spy for the light including broken bones, internal bleeding, deep lacerations, third-degree burns, several comas due to poison exposure and even two incidents where his heart temporarily stopped due to damage from prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse._

 _"His work, his double-life, was beyond dangerous. Each time he was called to the Dark Lord's side, there was no guarantee he would even return. Each and every time, that was the ever-present risk he lived with. His true allegiances to the Light could've been uncovered at anytime. He knew this risk, and he took it anyway, just so he could be of service to the greater good. He's braver than anyone ever gave him credit for."_

 _Remus J. Lupin, werewolf, member of the Order of the Phoenix and former professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, testified that he had been anonymously receiving his monthly dose of wolfsbaine for the last several years. An expensive potion, known for its rare ingredients and high degree of brewing difficulty, the doses arrived each month regardless of where in the world Mr. Lupin was._

 _"It always arrived right on time, with a small note reminding me to not skip any dosages. I could never be sure who sent it until now," stated Lupin. Through a sophisticated hand-writing identification spell, Miss Hermione Granger was able to show that the small note that had been attached to the potion matched other writing samples of Professor Snape's writing found on students' papers._

 _"I always had a feeling it had been from Severus and so I took it. Even after he killed Albus, the potion kept arriving just as it had for the previous two years and a small part of me still trusted him. I took because I was grateful for it, it was truly a godsend. Had he truly been evil, he could've easily poisoned it. But as you can see, that wasn't the case. It was always done perfectly."_

 _Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom, students at Hogwarts and members of Gryffindor house, testified that while in residence as Hogwarts' Headmaster, Snape prevented any harm from befalling the students, often intervening on students' behaves against Amicus and Alecto Carrow, known Death Eaters installed by the then-corrupt Ministry of Magic to teach and serve as deputy heads._

 _"The Carrows seemed bent on inflicting as much harsh punishment and chaos as possible, but Professor Snape always protected us. He never allowed any harm to befall us. It was a terrifying time and he did his best, in his own way, to safeguard us," said Neville Longbottom._

 _Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, students at Hogwarts and members of the house of Slytherin, also spoke to a gentler side to Professor Snape. Tales of purchasing new school robes and books for less fortunate students abounded, with Snape covering the cost out of his own pocket, done anonymously and without any fanfare. Parkinson even mentioned seeing Professor Snape anonymously leaving small bags of spending money for students, who came from less advantaged families, to spend on leisure weekends to Hogsmeade._

 _"He had a reputation for being strict, even severe at times. But deep down, he cared a great deal about his students," said Parkinson. "He gave a lot of himself, I don't think that's something many people were able to see or appreciate."_

 _Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, son and wife of disgraced Lucius Malfoy, known Death Eater, who is currently serving eighteen years in Azkaban prison for his ties to Lord Voldemort, offered testimony and access to their memories showing the Wizengamot that Draco had originally been the one tapped to murder Albus Dumbledore at the behest of Lord Voldemort. Fearing for her son's safety, Narcissa approached Severus Snape and asked him to enter into an Unbreakable Vow with Mrs. Malfoy, promising to protect her son and to murder Albus Dumblore in her son's place._

 _"He took an immense burden from my shoulders. It's an enormous debt, one that I can never truly repay," said a somber Draco Malfoy._

 _Although highly unorthodox, the Wizengamot also allowed testimony from two portraits of deceased Hogwarts Headmasters, Phineas Nigellus and Albus Dumbledore._

 _Nigellus spoke of how while serving as Headmaster, Snape used Nigellus' unique position in a pair of moving portraits to keep tabs on Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, while they were searching for the horcruxes that Lord Voldemort had made to contain fragments of his soul. Nigellus testified that Snape purposely planted Godric Gryffindor's sword in the Forest of Dean and sent his patronus to lead Harry Potter right to it, thus giving Potter a huge leg-up against the Dark Lord._

 _Albus Dumbledore then testified that he had in deed tasked Snape with the burden of taking his life so as to spare Draco Malfoy from having to commit such a heinous act. Dumbledore also revealed that he had been suffering from a life-threatening curse the year prior to his death and would have in fact died even without Snape's intervention._

 _"Severus spared me a slow, painful death and he maintained his precarious position, just as I had asked of him," said Dumbledore. "Without him, we would've surely lost."_

 _Harry Potter, the famous 'boy who lived', who defeated Lord Voldemort also revealed several stunning details about Snape during his time as Hogwarts' Potions Master. Through the use of many memories via a pensieve, Potter showed Professor Snape saving his life on many occasions over the course of seven years._

 _"I was arrogant. I thought I knew who the enemy was but I was blinded by hatred," said Potter. "He taught me occlumency although I never made it easy. Professor Snape also saved me, so many times, from Quirrell, Umbridge, Barty Crouch Jr, from Death Eaters. He also helped save myself and Sirius Black during the Death Eater attack at the ministry, I've could've easily lost my godfather that night had Professor Snape not alerted the Order in time. All throughout my youth, he was there, quietly doing the thank less job of saving me from myself. So I could be there at the the end to face Voldemort. He's an incredible man. Truly he is. I owe him my life," said an emotional Potter._

 _Finally, Hermione Granger, who coincidentally served as chief defense for Severus Snape, offered up her own memories of a night during her third year, when she found herself, along with Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter, in a life-threatening situation against an unidentified and unmedicated werewolf. In the memory, the golden trio were facing a certain death at the claws of the unrepentant beast when Severus Snape arrived in the nick of time to spare the trio from a deadly fate and kept the feral wolf at bay until he could safely return the three students to the school._

 _According to the eloquent and beautiful, young war hero, "How could such a man be truly guilty of conspiring with the Dark Lord when he could've let us all perish so very easily?"_

 _"Severus Snape has sacrificed his safety, his good name, his very soul to protect Hogwarts, all of its many students and faculty and indeed the entire wizarding world. We would not be standing here today were it not for this selfless, brave individual. Place don't let his sacrifice go unnoticed."_

 _Despite Severus Snape being absent from the proceedings due to life-threatening injuries he sustained during the final battle, the overwhelming evidence spoke for itself. The Wizengamot voted unanimously to pardon Severus Snape on all charges._

 _Chief Warlock, Elphias Doge, was quoted as saying, "Sometimes we are not afforded the full picture and have to piece the puzzle together ourselves. But today, Miss Granger did all the hard work for us and showed us just how incredible a man Severus Snape truly is. We owe him a great debt."_

Setting the paper down, Severus felt truly stunned. She really had done the impossible; made a saint out of a sinner, at least in the eyes of the law. His heart ached as the weight of it all settled atop him. Freedom, true freedom was finally his. And all because of this brave, amazing woman. The woman he had screamed at, had hurt, had brought to tears.

Never, in his entire life, had Severus Snape felt more ashamed than he did at that very moment.

 _~~~~0000~~~~_

Ron rushed through the castle, his long legs sprinting down filthy corridors and down crumbling steps, as he headed toward Gryffindor tower. Passing the decimated Great Hall, he suddenly stopped as he heard a soft sobbing coming from the far end. His heart beat pounding in his ears, he almost dismissed the noise until he realized with a pang that the soft crying was emmenating from the very woman he was looking for.

Curled up in a ball, hugging her knees to her chest, her dress robes tossed aside, Hermione sat against the far right wall, not far from where their house table should have been were it not broken into splinters and bits.

Ron approached cautiously, his feet gingerly stepping over broken boards and crushed stone.

"Go away, please," Hermione said, without even looking up, her voice thick with tears.

"Oh, 'Mione," Ron said softly, crouching down to place a soft hand on her shoulder.

The careful, tender touch made her reserve, the one she always held so firmly in place, crumble like the castle walls around her. She launched herself into Ron's arms, clutching him dearly as she violently sobbed, her whole body shaking and heaving from the effort.

Ron held her, pulling her right and the pair remained as one on the floor for a very long time, her soft sobs gradually ebbing.

"Are you alright?", he finally asked.

"No," she answered honestly.

"Oh, 'Mione. I'm so sorry," he offered, tenderly holding her.

"Why are you apologizing? You've done nothing wrong," she said.

"I just hate seeing you so torn up. He had no right to speak that way to you. After all you've done for him, he's a real bastard."

"He's not, Ron, he's just...I don't know what he is, I really don't. I honestly should've expected this. He told me yesterday not to use his memories. And I knew...I knew he didn't want to be defended, but I just thought, that deep down, I was doing the right thing. I knew he would be angry, I guess I just wasn't really prepared to face it. Especially not in front of everyone. Deep down, I thought he would be happy or...", Hermione trailed off, not sure of what she wanted to say.

"Grateful?", Ron stated.

She nodded as more tears spilled down her cheeks, leaning her tired head against her dear friend.

"Yeah, I thought so too," he said, holding her hand tenderly, his other hand, tucking an errant curl behind her ear.

She smiled at his tenderness, looking him in his deep green eyes. He smiled at her, his eyes sweeping across her face.

She realized she was so very tired of being tossed aside, taken for granted, treated like nothing. She wanted to feel something else. She wanted to rid herself of the anger and disappointment, drive it out of her heart, if only for a blessed moment.

Ron's smile faded then as he suddenly looked serious, her body tensing under his unwavering gaze. He reached a tentative hand up and cupped her warm face, holding her like she was the most precious thing in the whole world.

He leaned forward then and brought his rough lips against her soft ones. She felt her chest seize and her breathing stop at the contact. His kiss was soft and tender. His hand splayed across her back, dipped lower and settled at her waist, wrapping around her hip as he pulled her tight against his long body.

Her eyes closed as she gave herself over to the sensations swirling through her like a wind storm. Wrapped in darkness, she could shut off all her senses and just feel. Feel his lips and hands and the heat of his body against hers. She could allow it to comfort her even if it wasn't what she really wanted.

She didn't deepen the kiss but neither did she pull away, and Ron took it as all the assurance he needed to take it a step further. His hand tangled in her curls and pulled her tighter, his kisses becoming more forceful and possessive as his mouth bruised against her own with heat and desire.

"Oh, 'Mione, you feel so damn good. This feels so right," he uttered as he used his strong grip to gently push her onto her back and settle atop her.

Her heart racing, her mind whirling, this all should've felt amazing, exciting at the very least. And yet, it somehow felt... hollow, like she were playing the part of the young lover rather than genuinely living in this moment.

She was overthinking this, she knew it. As Ron's strong hands drifted up under her shirt and fondled her breasts, his lips peppering her neck and shoulder with kisses, she tried to relax and enjoy it. No man had ever touched her like this, it was supposed to feel good, wasn't it?

She wanted to shut her mind off, she really did. But every little thing seemed to catch her attention and hold it tight like a horse's rein. His kiss was too forceful, his weight too much to bear on her small frame, his hair hung around her face, flushing her with unwanted heat. As the reality of what she was doing sunk in, she began to panic, feeling like a lead weight sat atop her chest. Breathing soon became impossible.

Sitting bolt upright, roughly pushing him aside, she began to hyperventilate.

"Ron, no please. Stop! I can't..I can't breathe!", her face contorted with pure panic.

"What's wrong?", Ron sat up breathless, looking worried.

She could only gasp for air as Ron gently rubbed her back, his own eyes wide with concern.

"It's okay just breathe," he offered softly.

"I don't think I want this!", she blurted out.

"'Mione, it's okay. I didn't mean to rush. I just got excited, is all. We can slow down," he offered gently.

"No, Ron, I can't do this with you...at all," she said resolutely.

"'Mione, I don't understand...I thought...I thought you wanted this?", Ron offered, clearly confused at the sudden turn of events.

"No, Ron, I'm sorry. I can't do this with you, I'm sorry, I don't want this," she stated firmly.

"'Mione, I think you're just overwhelmed, it's been a rough day, a rough few weeks. I think you've been giving too much of yourself. You could use a break," said Ron.

"A break? What do you mean?", she said, pulling away from him slightly, not understanding.

"I mean you've been holed up here since the final battle. It's not healthy, how hard you've been working. Nobody even appreciates all your hard work," he said.

Her anger suddenly swelled at his thoughtless words.

"Of course, I'm appreciated Ron," she snapped. "And I'll have you know, I'm not here to get some pat on the back. I'm here because this is important me. I can't simply up and take off, I have people counting on me. I can't just leave."

"Mione, you don't have to stay here. Walk away," Ron said resolutely.

"Walk away?", she asked incredulously.

"Yes."

"From...from Hogwarts?", she asked disbelievingly.

"Yes," he said with a nod.

"Where would I go?", she said, genuinely at a loss.

"With me," Ron offered with a soft smile. "Charlie has offered me an apprenticeship with him, in Romania. I'm going to learn all about dragons," he said looking genuinely happy.

Hermione was clearly stunned by this news, hardly taking it in.

"Dragons? Are you sure, Ron? This just seems so sudden. It's dangerous work, you know. I never knew you even had an interest in dragons," she offered, her face betraying her worry.

"I never was interested really, but I think I just need to get away. With everything that's happened, I just feel like there's nothing here for me. I don't want to be an auror, anymore. I've done enough fighting. This job with Charlie, it would be a fresh start, away from all of this. I've told Mum and Dad and Harry, as well and they all approve."

"That's wonderful, Ron, I'm so happy for you," she said sincerely.

He smiled at her words, "So, come with me, Hermione. We could start something new together, it'd be all our own. I want to do this with you," Ron offered, tenderly cupping her cheek and pulling her close.

She cast her eyes aside, not bearing to see the hope shining bright in his eyes.

"Oh Ron, I...I can't, there's still more for me to do here," she said, pulling away from his comforting touch, looking anguished.

"Hermione, there's always going to be more to do. But you can't throw your whole life away on fixing some old castle... or some old man. You don't owe Hogwarts or Snape a damn thing. You've given them enough," Ron said, his voice pleading.

"Ron, you don't understand," she said pulling further from him, biting her lip, as tears welled in her eyes. "You never did. This...this place is my home, it's my heart. I have to fix it. I can't walk away from it," she said resolutely.

"Can't walk away from Hogwarts or from him?", Ron asked softly, his voice completely devoid of its usual anger.

She stopped at his words, and looked him square in the eye.

"You're in love with Snape, aren't you?", he asked, smiling sadly.

"I...I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, looking away.

"Don't play dumb with me," he said softly. "You've always loved him, haven't you? Even before all this madness and the war, you cared for him. You defended him, always gave him the benefit of the doubt. I saw it, so many times, how you would look at him. I just never wanted to believe it was true. But you love him, I can see that now. It's plain as day, even to a fool like me," Ron said, his eyes turned away.

"I don't...I mean, I...it doesn't matter what I feel, Ron," she offered, shaking her head, trying to hold back the wave of sadness that threatened to crash over her any second.

"Of course, it matters. Who ever told you it doesn't matter?" Ron said softly.

She hugged herself tight, as tears welled in her eyes. Allowing herself to feel the sharp burn of not only Snape's rejection of her but also her rejection of Ron. The pain of it all took her breath away.

She leaned her head against the wall as the tears came, quietly trickling down her cheeks. She felt so very lost.

Watching her closely, Ron finally reached over and gently took her small hand in his own. He sat quietly for a while, slowly tracing her delicate fingers as if he had only just now seen them.

"You know," he finally said, "when I was a kid, maybe eleven or twelve, I asked my dad, I said, 'Dad, how did you know mum was the one?'"

"Do you know what he told me? He said, 'Son, from the moment I saw your mum, my whole world felt brighter, I felt like someone finally turned on all the color. I'm my happiest when I'm with her. My heart sings because of her,'" Ron said, with a small smile.

"And that was it, that's all he said. I thought he was such a damn fool. Sounded like something he got from a muggle song, it sounded so silly," he chuckled softly recalling the memory. Hermione smiled slightly too.

"But then, I don't know, somewhere along the way I realized...", he softly said, swallowing hard as he held her gaze. "That's what I felt when I was with you. I still do in fact, like my heart is singing," he offered, earnestly.

"But your heart doesn't sing for me, does it?", he asked looking right at her.

She stifled a sob at the anguish she could see plainly written across her dear friend's face.

"I'm so sorry, Ron. I never knew you loved me, not like this. I thought it was just a crush or desire, I never knew you really loved me. I never wanted to hurt you," she said, honestly, clutching his hand dearly as she realized just how deeply his love for her ran.

"I know you didn't," he said sadly. "I could understand if it was Harry or someone who's cared for you, someone who's decent. But Snape...I just don't know how you can love him. I mean, his past aside, he's got a whole new life now and he's still the miserable bastard we grew up with. He's still cruel and dismissive. How could you love that? How could you give your heart to a man who doesn't even want it", he asked honestly, expecting some kind of logical explanation for such illogical behavior.

But the heart was not such an easily calibrated instrument. It couldn't be wound tight and fixed to right, it was never that simple. Ron was realizing in this painful moment that the heart couldn't be counted on for rationality.

"I'd do anything for you, you know? I'd go to the ends of the earth to please you," Ron said as tears quietly trickled down his freckled cheeks, his face flushed with the crushing realization that she would never be his.

"You saved his life, Hermione. Twice in fact...and that prick won't even thank you," Ron said, as his head tilted back to stare into the black expanse, finding no comfort from the stars.

"I guess you're right, Hermione," he finally offered, with a sad shake of his head. "I don't understand anything at all."

She swallowed hard at the sadness in his voice. She brought forth that sadness once more and she hated herself anew for leaving that cut, for causing that pain in her friend.

He leaned forward then and took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead, his lips trembling against her pale skin as he relished the touch for the last time.

"Good luck, Hermione," he offered with a sad smile, as he wearily stood to leave.

Slowly making his way to the doors, he turned and said, "I hope he can one day deserve that beautiful heart of yours." And with that, he walked out of the hall without a single glance back.

Alone again, as always, Hermione buried her face in her hands, ashamed, disappointed, completely spent. A small twisted part of her savored the harsh burn as a small penance for hurting Ron.

 _It's better this way,_ she thought. _It's better we did this now rather than ten years down the road._

But this thought was little solace to the young woman who just lost one of her dearest friends.

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 **A/N: The line "existing is tricky, but living's a gift" is also by EE Cummings. I feel like every line that man wrote was simply exquisite, so expect a healthy amount of his quotes to make an appearance in this fic :)**

 **So I know this chapter was LONG, and I'm still not entirely happy with it, but I simply had to stop fiddling with it. I really wanted to give both Severus and Hermione some air-time and leave each of them reaching a moment of self-revelation: Severus realizing what an incredible feat Hermione has accomplished & how much he owes her, and Hermione realizing that you can't force another to love you. Severus turning towards Hermione while she turns away from him. Hope that came across well. So angsty, I know, but fear not. Happier moments are just around the corner :) **

**Thanks, once more, for reading. Take care :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thanks, once more, for all the lovely reviews, new follows & favs! I am sincerely appreciative for each and every one of them. I honestly can't believe that anyone actually reads this let alone follows and comments on it, so thank you :) Special thanks to all of you for sticking with this angst-ridden tale. As promised, things start to brighten just a tad for for our dear characters.**

 **This chapter is for _SilverWolf1986_ for always providing me with such sweet, thoughtful feedback. Hope you all are doing well :) Happy Sunday, everyone! **

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_Remember one thing only: that it's you-nobody else-who determines your destiny and decides your fate._

 _Nobody else can be alive for you; nor can you be alive for anybody else._

 _― E.E. Cummings_

In his thirty-eight years on this earth, Severus Snape rarely dreamt.

Even as a small child, his sleep was usually devoid of any fantastical thoughts. And now as an adult on the rare occasion when he did have dreams, they were usually filled with horrifying nightmares, of revels or tortures or profound loss. So he usually was quite content to forego dreams all together, pleasant or otherwise.

And yet as much he be preferred to avoid them, he did have one recurring dream.

Not of Tom Riddle or his bastard father. No, this was actually a pleasant dream, or at least as pleasant a dream as a haunted man like himself would have.

He found this dream came and went over the years, sometimes recurring several nights in a row, other times but once, then disappearing deep into his subconscious, for months or even years at a time. But it always stayed the same and it always brought him some small measure of comfort, especially during times of stress and sorrow, which was pretty much his entire life.

It was a dream of Lily, of her exquisite eyes, to be exact. Beautiful, almond-shaped eyes, bright green, shining like emeralds in the sunlight. Flecks of orange and gold woven through the green like a tapestry, he was hard pressed to think of a more beautiful sight.

In the dream, she would merely smile at him and be near him, never approaching him or speaking, simply standing before him, watching him.

Although lovely to behold, she felt distinctly dreamlike and far away. Each time he would try to embrace her but she would simply move further and further away, always slipping just beyond his tenuous grasp.

Her eyes also felt cold and distant, lacking the warmth and love that laced them when she was alive. Even deep asleep he knew she wasn't real, not truly before him, nowhere near him. But he honestly never had much comfort over the years and found that the hollow comfort they did offer him was better than nothing.

So after laying awake alone in the infirmary for hours, his mind whirling with grief and shame and self-loathing, he finally fell into a fitful sleep and those mossy green eyes were there to greet him once more. Shining bright like a beacon, he begrudgingly gave himself over to the dream, a small part of him was glad to have the reprieve, glad to have the promise of some comfort.

And yet the closer he came to her, the worse he felt. Staring deep into the emerald orbs he could see how cold and empty they were. They held no secrets, no joys, no sorrows, no hope. They were as empty as his own heart, just as all the others times he had dreamt of them.

He suddenly realized he didn't want this dream anymore, he couldn't bare the hollowness of it. He preferred to be completely devoid of comfort rather than suffer the sting of empty, insincere dreams. He wanted something real, something true to wrap his hands around and warm his heart against all the darkness.

Dancing before him, these eyes suddenly changed. They morphed from a cool, hunter green into a rich, deep brown. These eyes were vibrant and warm, like the richest soil bathed in sunlight, like the very essence of the earth, brimming with life and fire. Like a raw honeycomb, like the bark of an aged maple, like the rich plumage of a spring sparrow, they pulsed with the heartbeat of all living things and they were breathtaking to behold. They drew him in like a siren's call, his whole heart and soul ensnared and awakened by their beauty.

And then these lovely eyes, so full of joy and hope, slowly began to fill with tears. Spilling like oceans, they slid quietly down her cheeks, her sweet, kind face crumpling in despair and sorrow.

His eyes pulled back slightly to realize that this wasn't Lily, not anymore. This face, this exquisite face with eyes now full of pain, belonged to Miss Granger. This dream felt so very real, as if the young lady were standing before him. He could see the tears glistening on her face, her pale pink lips trembling, her cheeks flushed. He could literally feel her despair, her sorrow seemed to fill the air, it swallowed him up whole.

Pain. The truest emotion he had ever known, yes, this he could feel. Sharp, bright, real. This he could wrap his hands around and know it's sting all too well.

Just seeing her so distraught, knowing he had been the cause of such pain, his heart broke for her. Without pausing he stepped forward, instinctively wanting to hold her, comfort her, and this time the young lady didn't slip through his fingers. He grabbed her tightly and held her against him, soothing her, calming her.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Forgive me. Please, forgive me," he begged over and over again, his voice soft and pleading. And with each utterance her tears gradually slowed. But still he held her, enjoying the calm that suffused him as her soft, warm body relaxed into his own.

Suddenly Miss Granger disappeared, his arms achingly empty and he heard the voice of an old friend call to him once more.

"You have more to do, Severus. It's time to wake up. She needs you," called Lily, her voice washing over him and echoing in his ears.

At this he awoke with a start. Confused and groggy, he looked around him in vain for Lily, but the infirmary was empty, save for him.

Setting his tired head back down onto his pillow, feeling anguished and shaken from the troubling dream, he suddenly remembered Lily's words from the night of the final battle.

" _You must live, Severus, really live."_

" _Good things will come but only if you allow them."_

 _"Choose happiness when it comes."_

The cryptic words rung once more in his mind like a church bell on Easter morning, proud and unrelenting, impossible to ignore and full of promise and hope.

Maybe happiness was waiting for him. Maybe that wasn't such a crazy thought after all. But perhaps like most things, the happiness and redemption he longed for required some sort of catalyst, a drastic change in his current conditions to result in a dramatic life change. He could start by not being such a bastard, especially to the many people who had helped him survive and heal, that could be a good place to start.

He glanced out the window before him and could see the dawn approaching. The sun was still well below the horizon, but already it was painting the eastern skyline a dusty pink, pushing out and banishing the dark of night.

Eying the mountains, so resolute and unwavering, the verdant trees and fields abloom with hopeful wildflowers, all signs of the beauty and strength of the summer sun, this day felt new somehow and an unparalleled feeling of hope began to fill him in the most peculiar way.

Today was the first day in as long as he could remember where he didn't wake up feeling immediately panicked, his cluttered mind fill to the brim juggling multiple schemes and plans and personas. Today he was just himself, no master, no double-life to lead or to hide behind.

From here on out he was in charge and he could choose to steer his life in which ever direction he saw fit. He was weightless, unattached and free from servitude.

The freedom felt exhilarating but also overwhelming. He truly did not know what to do with himself, where to go, what would become of the rest of his life. He could do or be anything, the question was what would he do?

He could just be himself, that seemed like the logical place to begin. But after twenty years of pretending, who was he now? He honestly didn't know and that scared him more than anything. This all felt so foreign.

Seeing the _Daily Prophet_ still perched on his bedside table, he knew one thing for certain; before he could figure out his own path and life, he first he had a debt to repay and a heartfelt apology to offer.

~~~~0000~~~~

Sirius groaned in his sleep and pulled the pillow snug over his head to try and block out the incessant tapping noise that was filling his bedroom. When the racket didn't subside, he pulled his pillow back and peeled a single eye open to spot a rather pissy-looking owl taping furiously at the glass with its pointy beak, a small letter gripped tight in its talons.

"Ugh, piss off! It's barely dawn!" Sirius shouted at the bird.

But the persistent owl at the window took this as its cue to redouble its efforts with its beak tapping out a unrelenting beat. After several long minutes of this, Sirius reluctantly pulled himself out of his warm bed and jerked open the window to retrieve the letter from the small brown owl.

"This damn well better be important," he grumbled with a scowl on his face.

Shooing the owl away without nary a treat and shutting the window closed, Sirius sat down heavily upon his bed as he tore the letter open. He scanned the terse note twice, hardly believing his eyes.

 _I am in need of your assistance. Floo call as soon as possible._

- _Severus_

Sirius reread the note to be sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

"Friendly for a day and already the cheeky bastard thinks he can wake up me at all hours," Sirius grumbled as he roughly pulled on an old t-shirt atop his boxer shorts.

He stomped down the creaky steps and headed to the library to Floo call and as he entered he was greeted by the sight of Remus laying beside Teddy on the carpet before the fireplace. The morning sun just beginning to brighten the room, Sirius could see both father and son were smiling and giggling softly.

Sirius suddenly felt his mood lighten and his lips quirk up into a genuine smile at the sight.

"Hey, Moony. How's our little man doing this morning?", Sirius said as he lowered himself onto the rug, settling beside the happy baby and his dear friend.

"Good," replied Remus with a smile, as he watched his young son, holding up a rattle for the baby to look it. "He was a bit fussy in the middle of the night, but we both fell back to sleep and we're feeling much better now, aren't we, sweet boy?"

Teddy smiled in response, kicking his legs happily in the air and offered a gurgly smile.

Sirius and Remus chuckled at this and their eyes met. Sirius smiled wide and easy at the incomparable sight of his friend's face lite-up with simple joy. It was a heartwarming to see him healing and enjoying his sweet child.

"So what are you doing up so early?", Remus asked looking genuinely surprised. Sirius could usually be counted to sleep until at latest eleven unless Remus awoke him sooner to help with Teddy.

"Um, yeah..it's a bit odd, Severus just sent me an owl. He needs something evidently, wanted me to Floo call," Sirius said nonchalantly, as he sat up to approach the Floo.

"Severus? Severus Snape? Bat of the dungeons? Your arch nemesis? _He wrote to you_? What does he need?", Remus asked disbelievingly.

"He didn't say. I should probably call him and find out," Sirius said as he rose and strode to the Floo. He added a pinch of blue powder to activate the call line. As the flames morphed into an icy blue, he leaned his head forward and called out, "Hogwarts infirmary".

As the flames turned bright yellow, indicating the call had been received, Sirius leaned forward and called out, "Severus? Are you there? It's Sirius, are you alright? What's going on?"

"It's about damn time you called! I owled you over an hour ago," Severus snapped in response, his voice and apparent irritation, carrying clearly through the Floo.

"My deepest apologies, Severus," Sirius offered, his rich voice dripping with sarcasm. "I was sleeping, as people usually do at five in the morning."

Sirius turned to give Remus a smirk who merely met the gesture with a slight chuckle and a genuine smile, thoroughly enjoying the unusual conversation taking place.

"Very well. Now that you're finally awake, I need you to come to the castle, as soon as you can," Severus offered tersely.

"Why? What's wrong?", Sirius asked, his voice rising slightly with panic. "Has something happened? Is everyone alright?"

"Nothing is wrong, at least as far as I know. I haven't seen or spoke to anyone since last night. I need...", Severus paused, gathering his courage. "I need your help," Severus finally said, his voice softening.

"You need my help? What do you need?" Sirius asked, his curiosity peaked.

"I, well...it's a rather delicate subject and I'd rather not shout this through the Floo. Could you come to the castle and we can discuss it in person?"

"Yeah, that's no problem. Just, uh...let me get dressed and I'll be there in ten minutes," Sirius said, trying to keep his voice even, although he had no idea why he was being summoned.

He began to rise to his feet but halted mid-air as a thought crossed his mind.

"Hey, wait a minute," Sirius paused, his brow knit in confusion, "How in the hell did you send me an owl if you can't even get out of bed?", he asked, genuinely curious.

"I bribed a house elf to send it," Severus admitted.

"You bribed an elf? How'd you manage that?"

"Well...I suppose _threatened_ would be a more accurate term. I told him I'd give him a sock and set him free if he didn't send it," Severus said succinctly.

"You're a crafty bugger, Severus, I'll give you that," said Sirius with a chuckle.

"Oh, yes, so crafty that I need to enlist the likes of you to help carry out my scheme," Severus said dryly, but lacking any real bite.

"Ah, you could do worse," Sirius called out, shocked to find that he was actually enjoying the banter.

"Indeed, I could," he offered and then said sincerely, "thank you, Sirius. I appreciate your assistance."

"It's no trouble, Severus. I'll see you soon."

With that, Sirius tossed another dash of blue powder into the flames to end the call and close the connection. Rising from his knees and turning to fetch some proper clothes, he stopped as he caught his friend's shocked expression from the rug.

"Severus...and you? I don't believe it," said Remus, shaking his head, wide-eyed and completely gobsmacked.

"What?", asked Sirius. "What do you mean?"

"You're friends with him now?", asked Remus with a small, knowing smile on his face.

"I wouldn't go that far, Remus."

"But he just asked you for help and you agreed," Remus noted with surprise.

"Well, he doesn't exactly have a lot of people to rely on at the moment," Sirius pointed out.

"That's beside the point. You know he could've asked Poppy or Minerva but instead he asked you. He's in a jam and he called you. I have never known that man to ask for help...something happened between the two do you yesterday, didn't it?" Remus asked, his gray eyes full of intuition.

"You're reading too much into this, Moony. I helped him out yesterday and I was simply the easiest one to call. Minerva's still weak and Poppy can be difficult when she wants to be," Sirius said trying to dismiss the look his friend was shooting his way.

"No, he's asking for help, from you...it must be because he trusts you. That's simply amazing, Sirius. What exactly did you do for him yesterday?"

"I...," Sirius paused, not wanting to embarrass Severus by saying exactly what had transpired the previous day. So he omitted a few details.

"I just offered him a bit of kindness, a bit of understanding. And I apologized, believe it or not," Sirius said, his eyes downcast.

"He's hurting right now," Sirius said softly, finally chancing a glance at his friend. "And I know how it feels to be a pariah, to not feel worthy...of anyone or anything. He lashed out yesterday because he hates himself, and that's a damn hard feeling to shake on your own. It may seem counterintuitive, but when you're hurting others, lasting out, it's really a cry for closeness, for some kind of connection. I simply think he could maybe use a friend...or two," Sirius said, eyeing Remus with sincerity.

"Merlin, you two really did have a change of heart yesterday," said Remus said with a smile as he too sat up and pulled a wiggly Teddy into his lap.

"I just tried to...I don't know," Sirius shook his head, not entirely sure just how to explain how things had changed between he and Severus.

"I could have treated him better when we were younger," he finally said, softy. "Sure, it was he and James who had the worst of it, but I never helped matters, often I just fanned the flames," Sirius said, his eyes downcast, feeling ashamed.

"Anyway, he's turned out to be a better man than I previously thought," Sirius offered honestly.

"That's quite gracious of you to say. And it's very kind of you to help him," Remus said, looking genuinely surprised and secretly proud of his friend for admitting his faults and taking the high road.

In truth, Remus marveled at just how much Sirius had changed from his youth. Somehwere along the road to adulthood, Sirius had become the responsible one, not just a good, loyal friend, but a reliable one as well. Someone who could be counted upon for reason and empathy and it made Remus both proud and touched to see his friend changing for the better.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to come and help. That is, if you think Severus wouldn't mind," Remus offered with a small smile.

Sirius returned the smile and nodded.

"I think he could use all the help he can get," Sirius said with a grin.

As Sirius left the library to dress, Remus smiled down at his son cradled in his arms and said softly, "Well, Teddy, I didn't think I'd ever see this day. Sirius Black and Severus Snape getting along...James must be absolutely pissing himself," Remus said with a smile.

The Floo flames burst to life just then as Andromeda stepped out to report for her babysitting duties. She was delighted to find the rare sight of a smiling Remus and a giggly Teddy. It warmed the old woman's battered heart to see such a pleasant sight.

"Good morning, boys. What has you two in such a fine mood this morning?", she asked with a warm smile.

"Oh, nothing of note," replied Remus with a smile as he carefully handed his son off to Andromeda.

"Hell has just frozen over," he said with a grin as he ducked out of the library to fetch his jacket, leaving a bewildered Andromeda and a happy Teddy in his wake.

~~~~0000~~~~

True to his word, Sirius arrived at the infirmary ten minutes later, joined by Remus.

Sirius strode to Severus' bedside and stuck out his hand as way of greeting and Severus accepted it.

"Thank you for coming, I appreciate you making the time," Severus offered, trying on the unfamiliar feeling of politeness like a new suit. He was surprised to find it didn't feel totally uncomfortable, it simply pinched at the seams a bit.

"It's no trouble at all. I was heading in anyway to help Hagrid this morning. Remus wanted to come along and say 'hello' as well," Sirius said with a warm smile as he nodded at his companion.

"Good morning, Severus, how are you feeling this morning?", Remus offered with a polite nod and a warm smile spread across his rugged face.

"Lupin, hello. How...how are you this morning?" Severus said, finding himself a bit flustered. He had expected Sirius to come alone and the added company and pleasantries threw him off a tad.

"I'm well, thank you, Severus," Remus returned. The trio lapsed into a moment of awkward silence, the distinct lack of familiarity becoming readily apparent.

"Well then, uh...now that you've got us here, what's going on? What do you need?" Sirius finally said, breaking the silence.

"Yes, well. I've been weighing over what you said and I...I want...I need to go and see Miss Granger and apologize. But as you are aware, I can't make it across the room let alone the castle. I'm still stuck in this damn bed and I...I can't make it on my own. I was hoping you could be of some assistance?", Severus humbly asked, looking uncomfortable at being so vulnerable, so open.

A small smile played across Sirius' face at these words. Severus was trying to make amends, he was trying to set things right and it pleased Sirius more than he could say.

"That's a damn fine start, Severus. A damn fine start," offered Sirius trying to be encouraging. "It's only half past six, Hermione should still be sleeping. Let's go pop you over to her common room and you can wait for her there," Sirius said stepping forward to help Severus stand but the potions master tensed at the movement.

"Are you sure that's appropriate? I highly doubt she'll want to see me. Should I perhaps wait for her in a more neutral space. Perhaps the front hall or the library?" Severus asked, looking nervous.

Sirius merely shook his head in response.

"No. Now, listen, when you piss a woman off you have to seek them out," Sirius said with an air of authority on the subject matter.

"You have to go to them and make amends, it shows them you're genuine. If you sit here expecting her to come to you, then you'll be waiting forever," Sirius said matter-of-factly.

Severus seemed to weigh the advice while Remus let out a snort of derision.

"Really? We're going to take your advice on appeasing an irate woman? I don't recall you having much luck with that when we were in school," Remus said with a grin.

"Oh, stuff it, Moony. I know plenty about making a woman happy," Sirius said with a wink.

"In the bedroom, I'm sure, but outside of one...I'm not so certain," Remus said with a cheeky grin.

Sirius glared at the wolf but pressed on.

"Ignore him, Severus. I know what I'm talking about. If you make the effort of seeking her out, you'll be rewarded, I promise. So, what do you say? I've got things to get done around the castle and Remus has to pop to the ministry for a meeting with Kingslsy, so...what's it gonna be?" Sirius asked.

Severus truly disliked the idea of ambushing the young woman, but he also knew how stubborn and unyielding she could be. If she truly didn't want to see him, she could avoid him just shy of forever and he didn't want that. He wanted to see her, needed to in fact. The guilt was weighing heavily upon him and he needed some kind of resolution even it was her just yelling at him and throwing him out. Anything was better than this horrendous guilt. And so he reluctantly gave a slight nod.

"Very well. Kindly help me to her common room," Severus said as he pulled his bedsheets aside and pushed his legs off the bed with a groan.

"Wait a moment, you're going to wear this?" Remus asked as he eyed Severus' collared pajamas with a dubious look.

"What the hell are you on about, Moony? He's dressed fine!" Sirius snapped.

"These are pajamas. You can't go and apologize to a lady in pajamas. That's just not done," said Remus with a firm shake of his head.

"And what, pray tell, should he be wearing? A ball gown?", deadpanned Sirius.

"Smart ass," muttered Remus with a smirk as pulled his trusty wand from his pocket. "I'll just transfigured what you have on now. Just hold still, Severus," Remus said as he pointed his wand at the potions master.

But Sirius was on him in a flash as he grabbed his wand hand tight. "No, no unnecessary spells on him right now. He's too weak for it. Poppy's orders."

Remus gave a simple nod of understanding and stashed his wand up his shirt sleeve.

"Very well. This isn't much, but it'll have to do for today," Remus said as he loosened his own tie from his neck and pulled it over his head.

"What are you doing?", asked Severus, apprehension clear on his face, as Remus approached him, tie in-hand.

"Getting you presentable," Remus said with a smile as he slipped the green tie over Severus' head and sat down beside him to tighten and straighten it beneath the collar of his pajama shirt.

"This really isn't necessary, Lupin. I can make due on my own," Severus offered curtly, but Remus was having none of it.

"I know it's not required, Severus, but I'd like to help you. Just as you've helped me all these years. If you'll allow me?" Remus asked, his fingers paused over the still-loosened tie.

"Very well," Severus said after a moment's hesitation, eying the werewolf with some surprise.

Remus then shucked off his dark brown suit jacket and held it in front of Severus.

"Yes, yes, the size will work but the color is all wrong," Remus said with a shake of his head.

Laying the jacket flat on the adjoining bed, Remus pulled his wand out and easily changed the color from muted brown to black.

"There we are. It suits you," Remus said as he picked it up and gently slipped each of Severus' arms through the sleeves.

"A jacket and tie will vastly improve this look. It'll show her you cared enough to straighten yourself up. Women notice these things," Remus said as he stood once more and gave an approving nod.

"Alright, much better," Remus offered with a smile.

Severus was half way between feeling grateful and annoyed but chose to offer a simple nod of thanks.

"Pajama bottoms, a jacket and tie. I must look like an absolute tit," Severus said with a sad shake of his head.

"It's actually not bad. Helluva lot better than the all-black look," Remus said with a smirk.

Severus merely pursed his pale lips and quirked a defiant eyebrow.

"Severus, you look smashing. So stop fussing," Sirius interjected. "If Madam Malkin here is quite finished, let's be off then," said Sirius with a smirk and pointed glance at Remus.

Sirius and Remus stepped forward to help Severus slip his feet into a pair of black house slippers. The sight of the two Marauders, kneeling before him, carefully helping him put on his shoes was a stunning one. Never in a thousand years could Severus ever imagine this pair going to such lengths to help him.

Straightening up, Sirius and Remus flanked Severus, their strong, capable arms tucking under his own as they easily pulled him to a standing position. Although his muscles were searing with sharp pain, this time with the help of both men holding him up, Severus found it far easier to stand and make some forward momentum.

As the trio reached the Floo, they stopped dead in their tracks when Poppy brushed through the doors of the infirmary. If she was surprised to see the unusual trio standing by the Floo, she didn't show it. Merely quirking a single eyebrow, she said, "And just where do you three think you are headed?"

"Oh, Poppy, I'm sorry, we were just helping Severus," Remus offered, contrite as all get out, ever the diplomat.

"You see Poppy, the thing is..." Sirius began with a clever lie, ready and waiting.

But it was Severus that stopped them both, by simply telling the truth.

"Poppy, I need to go and see Miss Granger," he utter softly, sincerely.

"There is much I need to do, but first and foremost she deserves an apology and...my thanks. Lupin and Black were merely helping me. I know I shouldn't be up and about, but this cannot wait any longer. I've wasted enough time. Please...allow them to assist me," Severus uttered, meeting her annoyed gaze and holding it steady.

"Very well," Poppy offered after a long beat. "Straight to her common room and no detours," she stated firmly. "I shouldn't allow you to do this at all in your state, but...if it's for a good cause than even I can't stand in your way."

The three tall wizards gave a nod of thanks as they squeezed into the Floo, or at least tried to.

"Moony, move over would ya? You're hogging the whole damn Floo!", snapped Sirius.

"I'm trying, Pads, but I'm not exactly petite," replied Remus, scooting further in and knocking his head on a protruding brick in the process.

"You're stepping on my foot," Severus winced.

"Sorry, Severus," replied Remus as he kindly moved his foot.

"Alright, all in?", asked a smiling Sirius.

"Yes!", shouted Remus and Severus.

"Good. Gryffindor Common Room," Sirius called out as he gave Poppy a quick wink and the trio were immediately pulled away in a rush of magical flames.

Poppy smiled at the sight and shook her head. "Some things never change," she said to herself as she set off to do an inventory of her potions, feeling happy that Severus had come to his senses and had managed to find a few friends along the way.

Landing a moment later in the Gryffindor common room, the trio stumbled gracelessly out of the small Floo and fell face-first onto the worn carpet, with Severus having the unfortunate luck of being pinned beneath his two travel companions.

"That went well," Sirius said with Severus beneath him and Remus sprawled flat across his back.

"Would you both kindly get off of me, you weigh a goddamn ton!" Severus groaned at the considerable weight.

"Sorry, Severus," said Remus as he rolled off to the side which allowed Sirus to sit upright and Severus to finally draw a sweet breath.

Remus and Sirius quickly pulled Severus up to a standing position and helped settle him into a plush armchair.

"Thank you," Severus breathed out, trying hard to calm his racing heart. He was thankful to be seated as his whole body felt weak and febile after their short trip, his energy completely sapped.

"No worries, Severus," offered Sirius as he straightened up and glanced around the familiar room with a knowing smile.

"It's...wow...its been a while since I've been in here. Brings back a lot of happy memories," Sirius said as he eyed Remus with a big grin.

"If you're quite finished reminiscing," Severus offered dryly, his aching body and building nerves combining to make him feel tense and irritable. Miss Granger would no doubt make an appearance soon, and he did not want an audience for what he needed to say.

"Oh, I see, you've got what you needed and now you're done with us," Sirius said in mock anger.

But Remus could see that Severus actually looked quite nervous and gave him a helping hand.

"Come on, Sirius, we should get going," Remus offered with a gentle tug on his arm. "Hermione should be down soon and I'm sure Severus would appreciate some privacy while he speaks with her," Remus offered with a warm smile.

Severus offered Remus a slight nod of thanks at his perceptiveness.

"Oh, alright, we'll be off," Sirius begrudgingly agreed.

"Don't be nervous, Severus," Remus said, "Hermione's a good person. She has such a good heart, just be straight with her and she'll forgive you."

"Thank you, Remus. I will try my best," Severus said, extending his hand towards Lupin. Remus shook it with a smile, both men seemingly glad to have gotten off on a bit of a better foot, even if it was twenty-six years in the making.

"I'm off to the ministry to help Kingsley for the morning with some new legislation on werewolf rights. You should feel free to Floo call if you need anything, I can come back at a moment's notice if need be," Remus said as he entered Floo and disappeared in a whoosh of green flames.

Sirius prepared to depart and offered a few last words of encouragement to the anxious man.

"Alright, I'm off to help Hagrid around the grounds. Send a house elf to find me when you're ready to return to the infirmary and I'll come back to help you," Sirius said as he offered an encouraging smile and a pat on Severus' shoulder.

Severus gave a terse nod, eyeing the stairs leading up to the girls' suites with some apprehension.

Sirius crouched down once more and locked eyes with Severus.

"Listen, this is a good thing you're doing here. You're righting a wrong and that's something that won't fall on deaf ears," Sirius said earnestly.

"Just take some deep breathes, stay calm and be honest. Hermione...well, she's a stubborn one, but I think you know that already. She's probably gonna yell at first, she's a bit fiery when she's angry. But don't lose your temper with her, she's hates being talked down to," Sirius sagely advised.

"I do not have temper!" Severus snapped in reply.

Sirius merely quirked a questioning eyebrow in response to that spectacular line of bullshit.

Severus blew out a sigh and relented. "Alright, I might have a bit of a temper, but only when provoked."

"She's gonna provoke you that much I can assure you. So when she does, just take it. Don't snap back, it'll get you nowhere."

"I'll try," Severus agreed, still disbelieving that he was actually taking advice from Sirius Black.

"She will forgive you, Severus. She's too kind-hearted not to," Sirius said, trying to ease his friend's apparent nerves.

"I hope so," Severus said softly.

"Just trust me," Sirius said as he straightened up and strode to the fireplace, grabbing a small pinch of Floo powder.

"Good luck!" Sirius called out as he too was pulled away in the Floo flames, but before the connection completely closed, Severus could've sworn he heard Sirius say, " _You're gonna need it."_

~~~~0000~~~~

Hermione awoke, her eyes squinting against the bright morning light, to find an empty bedroom. Luna's bed was still made up, unslept in from the looks of it. She must have spent the night with Neville in her old bedroom in Ravenclaw tower, as she often did. Even dirty and cluttered with detritus, Luna craved the comfort of her old, familiar bedroom, a feeling Hermione knew all too well. If only Hermione could find something that gave her some comfort.

Letting out a wistful sigh, Hermione was thankful for the solitude. She had laid in the Great Hall until past midnight before peeling her aching body off of the stone floor and trudging off to her own bed. Rolling over now and stretching she realized how sore she felt, her muscles tight and head pounding from exhaustion. The few hours of sleep she did get had barely taken the edge off of her sadness, it still sat there, just beneath the surface and she didn't feel like putting on a brave face for anyone right now.

She drew a deep, calming breath, trying in vain to will away the sorrow and the shame, but it didn't do any good.

His eyes swam before hers; black, angry and disappointed.

 _What a bastard he is._

Ron's words rung in her head like a bell. She desperately wanted those words to sink in and stay put, become part of her heart and thus drive out her longing, her hurt. If she could hate him then his condemnation wouldn't matter a single bit. The trouble was, as much as she wanted to stop caring for him, she found she couldn't. She simply couldn't turn off her feelings like a trusty switch.

Although his behavior the previous day said otherwise, Severus Snape wasn't a bastard, and deep down she knew that. He was simply human. Both selfless and selfish, both caring and callous, just like everyone. He had suffered a lifetime of loss and hurt and now he saw the world as a terrible place. That made it harder to see people and their intentions in a positive light. He was damaged goods, just like the rest of them.

She stretched and rolled onto her side, trying to escape the cheery sun. From the foot of the bed, Crookshanks lifted his head and rose to stretch as well. Arching his back into a perfect half moon, he straightened out slowly and lazily climbed to the top of her bed and happily nestled atop her chest, offering deep rumbling purs of contentment.

Hermione scratched the back of his ear and smiled as he purred even louder and leaned into her touch.

"At least I know how to make you happy, Crooks," she said softly, with a sad smile.

Although Hermione loved her half-Knealze, and appreciated his lovely company now more than ever, Crookshannks actually was not Hermione's first pet nor was he her first love. That honor went to a pitch black kitten with emerald green eyes named Jet.

When Hermione was six years old, her father found the small kitten out on his morning jog around their neighborhood. Picking up the small, shivering animal, Paul Granger decided that the kitten would make an excellent companion to his sweet, shy daughter.

And the young kitten did please his girl, immensely so. Hermione loved that kitten fiercely, feeding her bowls of cream each day and bringing home new toys each week for her to play with. And the kitten loved Hermione, as well. Curling up each night on Hermione's pillow and sitting in her lap while she read, they were soon inseparable.

But as the kitten grew older, she began to view Hermione more as a litter mate than a master and slowly Jet became more aggressive towards Hermione. What started with gentle nips and playful chasing, quickly devolved into deep scratch and gouge marks on Hermione's young hands and legs. Anytime Hermione tried to pet her, Jet would lash out with hisses and bites, arching her back and frightening Hermione. No amount of training would break the cat of the aggression and she only targeted Hermione, hurting the young girl far more than she could ever articulate.

It soon became unbearable and Hermione's parents chose to find the kitten another home. The day her father packed the cat in her carrier and drove her away for good, Hermione laid on her bed and wept for hours.

"I don't want Jet to go! I love her!", she raged, her ruffled, pink pillow soaked with her tears.

"But dearest, she wouldn't stop hurting you," said her mother, looking anguished at how upset her only child was. "No matter what we tried, she kept scratching and biting you. What kind of parents would we be if we let her stay and keep on hurting you? You deserve better than that."

"I didn't mind it, really! I love her, I don't want her to go!" Hermione wailed sadly, clutching her mother dearly.

Mary Granger smiled sadly at her daughter. Softly stroking her hair and holding her daughter tight, she worried that her sweet, kind girl would suffer a lifetime of pain if she didn't guard her heart more carefully.

"Sometimes in life, no matter how much we love someone, they can't or won't return our affections. We love them more than we should. And if someone does not love and care for us the way we deserve, then we need to let that love go," her mother offered gently.

"You can't just give your heart away, love. Save it for the one who deserves your love and affection. You're worth it, Hermione," her mother said with a warm smile as she gently wiped her daughter's tears from her small face.

Recalling her mother's words now, Hermione shook her head sadly, knowing that she should follow the advice she had received so many years ago.

 _Sometimes we love more than we should. Save your heart for the one who deserves it.  
_  
 _If only it were that simple,_ she thought ruefully.

Eyeing her bedside table, she caught sight of her seemingly endless to-do list and shook her head to dispel her melancholy thoughts. Scanning the line items still in need of attention helped focus her wandering mind.

 _Hagrid's hut (sort through debris, lay foundation, rebuild)_

 _Greenhouse (foundation work, glass enchantments)_

 _Ravenclaw Tower (water damage and ceiling and stonework restoration)_

 _Slytherin dorms and common room (caved in ceiling)_

 _Great Hall (walls, stonework, enchanted ceiling, spellework)_

 _Library (sort and archive books, reorder damaged texts)_

 _Grounds (finish debris clearing, locate all broken wands and send to ministry for archiving)_

And on it went, a list of no less than forty items. Every part of the castle still seemed in dire need of attention. And at the very bottom of her to-do list were the words:

 _Fix my bathroom_

With the trial behind her, she had so much work that required her attention. This castle wouldn't fix itself and she knew that pining for impossible things was simply a waste of productive time and if there was anything Hermione hated, it was wasting precious time.

 _Just one foot in front of the other, I'm going to make it. This will not break me. There are bigger problems than my silly heart._

She pulled herself out of bed and started her day with a clear head and a plan in mind.

 _Focus on the castle and soon things will be better. This is what is important. Fixing this place is what matters._

She gave Crookshanks a fresh bowl of food and water, earning her an appreciative pur of thanks. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she stopped and gasped slightly. She was a right mess, her hair was oily and frizzy and her skin was splotchy and dirty. She realized that she hadn't made time for a real bath in over a week, making do on cleansing charms that clearly were wearing thin.

 _A nice bath and a bit of breakfast and I'll be right as rain_.

Rummaging through her closet, she soon found a clean, fresh pair of jeans and a light blue t-shirt. Both items had seen better days but this would simply have to do for the day. Laying them atop her bed, she grabbed her towel, soap, shampoo and toothbrush. Since she had not yet made time to fix her ensuite bathroom's broken plumbing, she would have to shower in the downstairs bathroom attached to the common room. She stowed her wand on her nightstand and headed out of her suite to start what would hopefully be a productive day.

Severus heard her door open and he sat up straight. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath to greet her but as he opened his eyes and caught sight of her at the top of the stairs, his voice suddenly failed him, his prepared speech suddenly dying in his throat.

Clad in a thin tank top and a pair of cotton shorts that barely just skimmed the top of her thighs, she stopped to stretch on the top of the landing, her shirt riding up several inches to reveal her lean, pale stomach.

Shutting her door, she began to head down the steps. She hadn't seen him and he suddenly realized that he didn't know how to announce his presence. She was yawning, eyes half-shut as she roughly rubbed the sleep from her eyes, her bare feet treaded softly down the long steps, her one arm full with a towel and several bottles.

He silently watched her approach, mesmerized by the way her body moved when she thought no one was there.

The sinews of her arms as she brushed her bushy hair aside, the delicate curvature of her hips, swaying gracefully, she licked her dry lips, and rubbed her right shoulder, trying to warm up a stubborn, sore muscle. Her hair was an absolute mess, a frightening nest of frizzy, unruly curls, that seemed to defy the simple law of gravity by sticking up in all directions. Her usual pale skin tanned from the gracious summer sun.

This was what a woman looked like when she woke up, without makeup and charms, before the rest of the world saw her. This is what a good man would wake up to each and every day, he realized with some sadness.

He was positively shocked to discover that she looked...beautiful. Just as she was. Raw, open, unguarded, natural.

He tried to avert his eyes, offer her some privacy, he was invading her space after all. But he found himself incapable of such an act. His eyes glued to her body, her long legs descending the steps, his breath seemed caught painfully in his chest.

As she reached the midway point on the staircase, he forcibly shook the inappropriate thoughts from his mind as he realized it was either now or never.

"Miss Granger?" he called softly and slowly, trying hard not to startle her.

But startle her he did.

"Aaah!", she screamed in surprise, dropping her armful of beauty products as her feet slipped on the stone and suddenly felt her body pitch dangerously forward.

Severus felt his heart stop at the terrified look that graced her face as she lost her precious footing and she headed straight for the stone floor, at least fifteen feet below.

Before he could even consciously process what was happening, both of hands shot out before him as he shouted " _Accio_!", his whole body and soul focused on the woman about to crash.

At his words, he felt his magical energy surge like a powerful tidal wave, filling him with a remarkable power and strength, the likes of which he had never once felt before.

She was headed straight down, the cold floor rushing up to greet her and pure terror gripping her heart. Her face came within inches of the stone, when at the very last second, she felt her body lurch upwards and soar across the room and into the waiting arms of her surprise visitor.

Blood pounding in her ears, her eyes shut tight with fear, she suddenly struggled with the simple act of breathing. She was nestled snug against a warm, firm body, their arms ensnaring her, holding her dearly. As she held tightly to her rescuer, she dropped her head for just a moment to stop her head from spinning and nestled it against their chest. She breathed in a comforting, familiar scent. Soap and mint, coupled with an earthy, sweet, natural scent, like lemons or juniper. It was this scent that calmed her and reassured her that she was safe as relief washed over her frazzled nerves. But her relief was short-lived, as her mind whirred into action and she recognized exactly who this particular scent belonged to.

 _No, no it can't be him. It simply can't be.  
_  
Slowly opening her eyes, she lifted her head to find with shock and surprise that none other than Severus Snape had just saved her and was holding onto her for dear life.

 **A/N: Ahhhh, a bit cliffy there! I know, I suck, I apologize profusely. It felt like a good stopping point heading into their encounter. I know we're all eager to get to some Severus/Hermione moments and the next chapter is just that. It's also mostly written and I promise to have it posted within the week. No long wait this time, pinkie swear :) Thanks again for stopping by & I hope you all have a wonderful Sunday :) **


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hello, dear friends :) Hope everyone is doing well. Thank you all for the lovely reviews (including guest contributors) and the new follows & faves. I've mentioned that you all are awesome, right? ;)**

 **Special thanks to** ** _ DutchGirl01, Onyx Obsidian, Sassyluv, SereniteRose, SilverWolf1986, RhodaBush, megumisakura, floresamarillas, snazzieshazzie _****for reviewing so frequently. That you keep coming back and leaving your thoughts is so very kind, I am appreciative of you all.**

 **If you have read any of my other works, you know I'm a hardcore Remione shipper and I've recently had the good fortune of finding a writer with heart, wit and soul who writes my OTP absolutely beautifully. So if there are any Remione fans out there, (or if you're just looking for a great read) look up** ** _MarcellaDix_** **here on FF. She has four stories (with multiple pairings besides RL/HG) that are all well worth the read. She's also got a new SS/HG story that looks fantastic. I simply adore her works and I bet you might, too ;)**

 **Hope you all enjoy this one. Take care & Happy Monday, lovelies :) **

* * *

_"It takes two to be serious."_

 _― E.E. Cummings_

As Miss Granger's body crashed into his own, his hands closing tight around her slight frame, Severus wished he had thought to accept one of Poppy's many strengthening potions the previous evening. Her head had plowed straight into his bad shoulder, and her weight, coupled with the extraordinary power of his spell, caused her body to collide full-force against his chest like a wrecking ball. Thankfully, no bones felt broken or displaced, but the impact was nearly enough to knock him unconscious.

His lungs felt bruised and battered as he struggled to draw a deep breath. But as the young Gryffindor lifted her head from his aching chest and those beautiful, chocolate eyes met his, he suddenly found it very hard to breathe for an entirely different reason.

As they stared deeply into eachother's eyes, their faces only an inch apart, their bodies intwined, their hearts pounding like snare drums, Severus' previous aches and pains faded as he drank in the surprising splendor of her.

Her shirt had both dipped dangerously low in the front, and ridden up high in the back, displaying ample amounts of creamy, soft skin. He realized with some shock that he was clutching her bare back, his pale hands wrapped tight around her warm, supple skin.

Her long legs, barely covered by a thin pair of shorts, wrapped dangerously around his own. Her body molded to his own, she couldn't have possibly landed in a more inopportune position or with any less clothing on.

The rational part of his brain knew he should release her instantly, apologize and carry on as if this had never happened, but his heart, infernal instrument that it was, simply refused to honor that request. Instead he held on tight, enjoying the way his whole body seemed to suddenly tingle and sing from the lovely sensation of holding onto her, although he couldn't fully grasp why.

His eyes wide with concern, his pupils dilated to the point of all blackness, he softly asked, "Are you alright?"

Laying against him, feeling his heart race against her own chest, her body responded to his tender touch and rich, careful voice. Her skin felt electrified, goosebumps springing forth all across every inch of her bare skin. Her nipples suddenly hardened as she laid against his firm chest, she was positive he could feel them through his thin shirt. Her legs turned to jelly, her stomach tightening in the most exquisite way, all as a direct result of being so dreadfully close to him.

Her eyes dipped to his pale pink lips for a fraction of a second but it was enough to remind her of the three kisses she had given him, each one seared into her mind and flesh with the heat and sting of a branding rod.

Her eyes catching his once more, blacker than soot and full of uncharacteristic emotion, she suddenly recalled how many times she had fantasized about this very moment of having him, possessing him.

How many times had she touched herself while thinking of him holding her just like this, biting down hard on her pillow to muffle her screams of ecstasy as visions of him danced before her mind's eye?

Draped across him like a rag doll, barely dressed, her body was suddenly shocked alive by the delicate caress of his hands. She felt her center involuntarily flutter and clench at the thought of his hands dipping lower, soothing the ache that radiated throughout her body and set her nerves on fire.

But she shook the absurd desire from her mind and cursed her love-starved body for reacting this way.

 _No! Stop this!,_ she thought angrily. _Don't be a damn fool!_

She had to force herself to remember who he really was. He didn't give a damn about her, couldn't she see that? He was not the man she had concocted in her fantasies and it was high time she stopped viewing him through the rose-colored glasses of her fifteen-year old self.

This was the man who had insulted her for seven years, teasing her for her intellect, her friends, her appearance.

The cruel man who had just degraded her less than twelve hours ago.

The dismissive man who had thrown her out of the infirmary like a naughty child being sent to bed without supper.

The thoughtless man who just startled her needlessly and damn near made her plunge to her death.

A brave hero by all accounts, one who had saved her countless times. A noble man, one worthy of honor and respect, but not a kind, passionate man, at least...not to her.

Her body and hormones be damned, she simply had to stop this silly infatuation. It was causing her more harm than good.

She roughly pulled herself from his surprisingly tight grasp and stood up before him, her anger snapping to attention.

"Goddamn it! You scared me half to death!", she screamed, as she crossed her arms at her chest hoping to quickly cover herself before he could see just how excited and alive the firm touch of his hands had made her feel.

But if she was expecting her potions master to take this tongue-lashing lying down, she was in for a rude awakening.

His eyes narrowing in anger at her sharp-words, Severus recovered his usual sneer of disdain and neatly banished the confusing thoughts and feelings that having such a beautiful, young witch in his lap had stirred within him.

"Excuse me?!", he snapped, from his seat. "And just how exactly is this my fault?! What would even possess you to come traipsing down a steep flight of stairs, half-dressed, with your arms full?! You could've broken your neck if I weren't here to catch you!", he volleyed back, his eyes shining with indignation.

"I wouldn't haven fallen if you hadn't been here to frighten me!", she yelled in reply.

"And I'll have you know, I'm perfectly within my own right to dress how I please in my own rooms!", she said, bold as brass.

"I was just trying to take a shower! The bathroom in our room is broken so we've been using the one attached to the common room, not that's it's any of your business!", she roared.

Her cheeks were aflame with a lovely shade a pink, her curly hair wild and soft, framing her delicate face and tumbling and swirling down her tanned shoulders like a waterfall. Her chest heaved with each angry breath, her eyes narrowed with righteous indignation.

 _God damn, she looks stunning when she's angry_ , he thought with quite a bit of surprise.

While his mind swirled with this bizarre thought, she took his silence as her moment to press on, her long-held anger finally erupting with spectacular force.

"Do you mind telling me exactly how you were able to summon me from across the room?", she practically snarled as she stared down her former potions master.

"I'm...I'm not entirely sure," he weakly yet honestly offered, caught off guard by the direct question and the seething anger with which it was asked.

"Your healing has obviously advanced much more quickly than you've been letting on," she said, eyeing him warily. "Wandless magic is the most complex and demanding of all, and yet you've seemed to summon me with ease. You're magic has obviously been restored to full strength but you were content to let us all keep worrying about you, thinking you were truly still injured! You've been playing us for a fool!"

"Miss Granger, I can assure you, I have never been as weak as I am right now," he offered as he tried to temper her rage.

"I could barely life my arms this morning let alone cast a complicated spell. I have no earthly idea how I managed to summon you, without my wand, no less. You must believe me," he offered earnestly.

"Liar," she spat, hurt and embarrassment shining in her chocolate eyes. She crossed her arms even tighter, working hard to hold back every confusing emotion rushing through her except for her volatile rage.

"Why are you even here!? Come back to yell at me some more? Why bother now?! No one is here to witness it! I could call all the professors and a few house elves to see you further humiliate me, would you like that!?", she spat.

"Far from it. Miss Granger, if you could try and calm down, I'm simply here to speak with you...", he tried to reason with her but was abruptly cut off.

"I don't give a damn why you're here! Can you understand that!? And I will not calm down! I'm not a child nor am I your student! And I will be as angry as I damn well please!", she roared, her small body shaking like a tempest trapped in a teapot.

He nodded solemnly, his face unreadable, as a weary sigh escaped his lips, feeling defeated once more.

"You somehow managed to get here on your own and you can show yourself out. If you will excuse me, I was on my way to shower," she spat.

She turned on her heel and strode away, head held high as if she weren't wearing cotton shorts that left little to the imagination.

As she carefully crouched down and picked up her scattered toiletries, she quickly straightened up and fled as fast as her legs would carry her.

She entered the small bathroom and tried to slam the creaky door shut, but as she pushed against the heavy oaken door, she found the door's hinge badly broken which meant the damn latch wouldn't catch. She pushed with all her strength, but try as she might, the door wouldn't shut all the way and left at least a two inch gap between the door and the frame. She silently cursed this decrepit castle and all its broken bits.

If she had her wand with her, she could've easily fixed it, but it was sitting up on her bedside table. She shook her head in frustration, wishing she had brought it with her.

Peering through the gap in the door, she could see him still seated on the worn, leather sofa, his back turned towards her. Apparently he was being stubborn and refusing to leave.

 _Fine_ , she thought angrily, _stay put. It won't bother me in the least_.

But much to her chagrin, she found his silent presence did bother her. She knew he couldn't see into the bathroom, not from where he was seated. So she blew out the anxious breath caught in her chest, ignoring the uneasy feeling building in the pit of her stomach and chose to focus instead on her first shower in over a week.

As the young lady busied herself in the bathroom, Severus closed his eyes and silently cursed himself as his body went slack with physical and emotional exhaustion. What a fucking disaster this had turned out to be.

 _Let this be the last time I listen to the likes of Sirius Black._

He blew out an exhausted breath and knew he had to retreat and leave her in peace. No good would come from trying to speak any further, not when her rage was shouting down her better sensibilities, a feeling he himself knew all too well. Perhaps in a day or two, he could try once more to crack her hard shell.

He raised a weak, shaky arm and pointed at the gray marble bowl sitting atop the stone mantle which was full of blue Floo powder. Given how horrible he currently felt, he knew he couldn't make it back alone to the infirmary on his own. He could however summon Poppy or maybe even catch Black, before he left to work on the grounds. At least Black would be willing to help him.

Focusing his remaining strength on the bowl, he called out a clear, " _Accio_!", fully expecting the bowl to easily fly into his hands.

But not a single grain of powder budged.

He cleared and focused his mind and called out twice more to the same useless effect. The futile act left him stranded for the time being and more than a little puzzled.

How could his magical energy surge so suddenly and powerfully to save Miss Granger from falling fifteen feet away but he couldn't summon a handful of powder from five feet away? He hated not knowing why his body was betraying him, acting out of sorts at the oddest of times. Perhaps it was sheer desperation that caused his magic to swell at just the right moment. He knew that wizards and witches had been known on occasion of extreme distress to have magical flares of great proportion, but he had never once experienced it first hand.

The most potent element of spell work was intent. So much success rode upon it. If your heart was pure and your mind focused, any spell could be accomplished, even the most complex, you just had to want it. Sincerity, whether for good aims or bad, was crucial. And it would appear that in that split second of her falling, he had wanted to save her and spare her any pain and he had wanted it with all his heart.

Why would Miss Granger falling produce this reaction? He had always taken great pains to protect her and watch over her low these many years, just as he had done for Potter and Weasley, but that moment of summoning her from across the room felt different somehow, intimate almost. This had felt urgent, desperate even and he hadn't felt that kind of pull to help someone since Lily. And that realization made him pause.

 _But... why?_

 _Why her?_

 _Why now?_

He asked himself over and over again, unable to produce a suitable answer.

Luckily, he had plenty of time to ponder the puzzling predicament as he sat stranded in the common room.

Hermione, for her part, fumed with bottled rage as she bustled around the small bathroom like a banshee, her bare feet noisily slapping against the cold stone floor. She turned the shower on full blast and busied herself while the water slowly heated. She brushed her teeth with quite a bit of force and examined her gaunt, angry-looking face in the mirror.

As the bathroom filled with steam, she began stripping her tattered, filthy clothing, peeling each piece away and tossing them in the sink. Her anger faded briefly as she became painfully aware that she was nude and Professor Snape was a mere ten feet away, blocked from view by only a half-closed, broken wooden door.

She caught sight of herself in the full length mirror that covered the back of the bathroom door and openly eyed her naked form.

Running her hands over the smooth canvas of her skin, gliding across her arms and stomach, her thighs and breasts, her mind briefly wondered how he would respond to seeing her, just as she was.

 _What if he could see me right now?_

 _What would he think?_

 _Would he desire me or be disgusted?_

 _Would his face betray ecstasy or apathy?_

 _The latter,_ she thought resignedly, _definitely the latter._

Shoving the thoughts away for another time, she stepped into the small, stone shower, and as the hot water pelted her skin, she let a soft moan of pleasure involuntarily escape her lips. The warmth and force of the water, the rush of the shower drowning out her thoughts and cocooning her in a blanket of white noise, it all felt positively heavenly as she finally felt her body relax and her mind quiet.

Severus heard her sigh and paused. Even with the water running, he could clearly hear the pleasure and joy redolent in the sound.

That sigh, so gentle and natural, it was just enough to break through his mental machinations and quiet his mind for the first time in days. That gentle little moan, that soft little noise, he found it was doing strange things to his body. The hairs stood on the back of his neck, his stomach clenched and his ears pricked up, silently, secretly hoping to hear that lovely sound once more.

And so, he sat in perfect silence in the common room and found himself suddenly mesmerized by the soft sounds and lovely scents emanating from the adjoining room.

As a potioneer and spy he had always been highly perceptive, relying heavily on his acute senses to survive and thrive. And in this moment, all of his sense felt bombarded in the most exquisite way.

He could hear her brushing her teeth, walking quickly across the stone, sighing under the water, scrubbing her hair vigorously.

He could smell the mint of her toothpaste, and the clean, fresh scent of her sweet soap. The smell of apples drifted his way as she washed her hair.

The combined effect of the lovely scents and contented sounds was oddly comforting and familiar in some way, as if he had ever experienced this before. Between the steam drifting out of the cracked bathroom door and the bright summer sunlight streaming in through the tall windows, the common room soon felt warm and Severus swallowed at the heat that flushed his face. He tried to shake the unfamiliar feelings of warmth and peace that flooded him and clear his mind, but he failed miserably. He settled for waiting patiently, and secretly, although he couldn't even admit it to himself, enjoying this moment.

Digging her nails deep into her oily scalp she scrubbed with vigor, trying to remove the dirt and grime from her body along with the tightness that twisted in her gut. Standing beneath the powerful, hot spray, she rinsed her hair and gained a small semblance of satisfaction as the bubbles and dirt were washed away. She quickly spun the bar of lemon verbena soap in her hands and worked up a considerable amount of lather that she used to thoroughly scrub her dry, dirty skin. Running her hands down her legs, slipping between her toes and skimming back up, her mind called him forth once more, much to her shame and embarrassment, as her hands slipped between her thighs and brushed against her center.

 _Oh, how his hands must feel here,_ she thought with some delight, as her soapy fingers slipped across the hardened peaks of her rosy nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure to her quivering center. Thoughts of his hands touching her body and his silky voice filled her mind with thoughts that were best left alone.

 _Stop it,_ she silently chastised herself for her chaotic and confusing emotions and thoughts. She silently marveled at how she could be simultaneously angry at and aroused by the same man. Why would she feel this way for a man who obviously didn't care for her? None of this made sense and it was infuriating not knowing why her body and mind were seemingly pitted against eachother.

She rinsed the soap from her body and the dangerous thoughts from her mind.

He heard the shower shut off and a moment later, she emerged clad only in a towel, her arms full once more. As she locked her eyes on his, he couldn't help but openly gaze upon her. Her skin was still wet and flushed from the hot water, her curls damp and clinging to her bare back, the back he had just felt with his own hands.

"You're still here I see," she offered with an air of annoyance.

He gave a simple nod, looking resolute and sincere.

She pursed her lips. Part of her was truly annoyed that he was bold enough to stay put after she had dismissed him. And yet another part was curious as to why he would still stay after her meltdown. She knew her temper was the stuff of legends around the school. Few were brave enough to tangle with her when she was in a poor mood, and she realized with some sadness that very few stuck around when she was angry. Even her best friends had been known to abandon her when she was upset, even when she needed them the most. And yet he was still here, still willing to bear her wrath. Something was keeping him here and she couldn't help but wonder what.

Realizing that she was still standing before him, dripping wet and barely covered, she turned and quickly began scurrying up the steps, desperate to return to her room and find more to wear than a threadbare towel.

As she darted away, she could feel his eyes upon her, following her up the steps.

 _Why would he be watching me? Looking at me in just a towel?_

 _Surely he couldn't enjoy the sight of a half-naked, gangly bookworm_ , she thought with resignation.

He would no doubt find Hagrid more attractive than herself. She clutched her towel tight and tried to rush up the steep steps without tripping.

He watched her bare feet quickly taking the steps, her long legs glistening with water. He found as much as he wanted to look away, he couldn't. His heart was beating fast, his skin suddenly sweaty and tingling.

Only a few minutes passed before she emerged once more, this time, clothed in jeans, a pale blue t-shirt and trainers. Descending the steps, she shoved her wand in her back pocket while pulling her long, curls into a high pony tail, her slender, nimble fingers gathering and wrapping her curls with eased, practiced movements.

Leading a long, mostly celibate, life of a spy, Severus had never had the opportunity to watch a woman get dressed and ready for the day. How Miss Granger looked when she awoke, the scent of her shampoo, the way her skin flushed and glistened in the morning light, what she chose to wear, watching her fix her hair, it was all simply mesmerizing. And that simple act of fascination flummoxed him.

What on earth was possessing him to watch her? He honestly couldn't say. She had been his student up until one short year ago and he silently chastized himself for leering at her and thinking of her beautiful body. He forcibly shook the bizarre thoughts from his mind, for he needed to focus on the important task at hand; getting her to actually listen to him.

Reaching the bottom of the steps, Hermione finally met his eyes, uncertainty and anger still clear on her face as she paused to eye him once more.

"I have a full day of work, so if you'll excuse me," she said briskly, as she turned to leave.

"Miss Granger, please wait," he called softly.

But she kept on walking, steeling her nerve and her heart against him as she approached the portrait hole.

"I have a lot to do today," she offered tersely.

"Please, Miss Granger, wait!"

Her hand on the portrait, she began to push against it when he called once more.

"Hermione," he called softly, his voice gentle.

The sound echoed around the absolutely silent room and hung heavy in the air, seizing in her chest.

This stopped her. Not once in seven years had he called her by her first name. It sounded so beautiful coming from his lips.

"Hermione, please," he said softly, her body still facing away from him. "I need to speak with you, sincerely I do."

Her heart softened at his words. He had come here to speak with her and it moved her far move than she cared to admit.

"And besides that...," he continued, "I couldn't leave this room right now even if it were on fire. I really am quite weak," the exhaustion clear in his voice. "Please...please stay."

Ah, of course...he needed something from her. That's why he had remained. Her cheeks reddened with embarrassment at her earlier thoughts. A fool once more for thinking he was here for her, that he might actually care about how she was fairing.

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard at the sudden tears that threatened to fall. She didn't wish him harm, truly she didn't but neither could she bear to be near him. The wound was still too fresh, too painful to pretend it didn't hurt like hell.

"So you want me to stay because you need help back to the infirmary? Fine," she said, bitterness creeping into her voice, as she turned away from the portrait hole and strode quickly to the mantle, grabbing the bowl of Floo powder.

"Here," she bit out, roughly setting the bowl onto the table beside him, "call for Madam Pomfrey, she can help you back, I'm sure."

She went to leave but for the third time that day, her professor surprised her. His cool hand quickly shot out and clasped hers, gripping so tight, her body obeyed its siren call and halted before him.

"No, I don't want to leave," he said, holding her hand in his own, looking into her eyes with sincerity. "Not until I've said what has been weighing upon me."

Doubt flickered across her tired eyes. She wanted to flee but found that the way he delicately cradled her hand in his own left her rooted to the spot.

"Why are you really here?", she finally asked as she managed to pull her hand from his gentle grasp and stood before him, arms crossed tight, awaiting a satisfactory answer.

"I _wanted_ to speak with you," he said slowly, holding her angry gaze. "I thought given how rude I was yetsterday...how rude I have _always_ been to you...I thought you might not visit the infirmary, so I chose to come to you."

Her jaw clenched at his words, but her eyes softened ever so slightly.

"You...you really came here to speak with me?", she asked looking dubious.

He nodded, not daring to look away.

"I was hoping we could speak, that is..if you'll allow me? I have no intentions of forcing you, though. I understand if you would truly prefer not to speak with me."

She searched his eyes. They were dark and open and honest, a rare sight indeed. She sighed as she took a reluctant seat before him.

"Very well, sir," she offered politely, as she sat down, her posture still ramrod straight.

Seated before him now, she noticed for the first time that he had on a black, muggle sports coat and a tie atop his collared pajamas. This was quiet odd, because the only items of clothing he had at the castle were infirmary pajamas that Madam Pomfery had dressed him in.

 _How strange,_ she thought, with a bit of surprise. _He somehow managed to dress up a bit to come and see me. But...why would he do that? To impress me? Surely not._

"Thank you, Miss Granger... for staying."

She offered a slight nod, still eyeing him with suspicion, unsure of what exactly he wanted to say.

He finally had her seated before him. The easy part was done. Now came the hard bit.

"May I first say, I...I didn't intend to interrupt your morning routine. I simply wanted a chance to speak with you in private," Severus offered, his eyes meeting hers. "Forgive me for invading your private space this morning, it was a foolish idea to ambush you like I did."

His kind and thoughtful words, coupled so curiously with his soft tone took her aback. He wasn't angry or disappointed or yelling for once and she honestly wasn't sure how to handle this. She felt the ground beneath her shift as her addled brain slowly processed that he was actually apologizing and doing so sincerely. She had been so well prepared to battle him once more but he seemed intent on offering an olive branch instead.

"Yes, well," she offered, looking equally surprised and embarrassed. "I'm...I'm sorry I snapped earlier," her cheeks blushing. "I wasn't expecting you and it caught me off guard. I...I don't like being surprised," she said honestly, absentmindedly rubbing the slur etched for all eternity in the pale skin along her left forearm.

He swallowed thickly at the sight.

"Yes, I can imagine. I shouldn't have come uninvited," he said, looking ashamed.

She nodded once to indicate that she accepted him at his word.

The air hung heavy with tense silence, neither party knowing quite where to start.

The embarrassment that had started as a trickle was now a full-blown flood and she knew she needed to offer a more heartfelt apology. The man who had saved her life, many times over, deserved that small measure of respect.

"I am truly am sorry I yelled earlier, I was out of line, sir," she said softly, looking contrite and uncomfortable. "It was my fault I tumbled and I, of all of people, should know how very weak you still are. I should have known better than to accuse you of anything less than than the most honorable of intentions."

"Miss Granger, it is I who should be apologizing. I came her unannounced and uninvited. You had every right to yell," he said, trying to allay her worries.

"You saved me from injury, once more, sir. And I'm grateful," she replied softly, still eyeing her shoes.

He gave a small nod and swallowed thickly, unsure of how to say all the things he needed to say. The silence hung once more.

"I didn't know you could do wandless magic," she finally offered, trying to think of something to say. "Especially given how much damage your body has undergone."

"I truthfully don't know how I accomplished that. So much of spellwork is intent, as you know, and I simply didn't want to see you harmed, especially seeing as it was my fault in the first place."

 _He didn't want to see me hurt,_ she thought, with some surprise. _Too late for that._

"Well, then...", he began hesitantly.

"Yes?", she said looking expectant.

"I am unaccustomed to relying on others, Miss Granger. I have spent many years on my own and have rarely if ever found myself in the position of being in someone's debt. So this is hard for me to say, but...thank you," he said matter-of-factly.

Her mouth hung open in shock for a brief moment before recovering her composure.

"Pardon me, sir?", disbelief clear on her face.

"I am thanking you, Miss Granger, for the incredibly hard work you no doubt put into clearing my name. While I may have some... _mixed feelings_ on being granted this pardon, your hard work in accomplishing it should not go unnoticed. I am grateful...for everything you've done. I'm grateful for _you,"_ he said pointedly.

"Sir," she began, visibly taken aback by his kindness, "it is kind of you to thank me but in truth, many people helped to clear your name. The headmistress, Madam Pomfrey, Remus, Sirius, Draco, Harry, they all shared just how much you sacrificed in service to our cause. So very many helped in the effort, I do not deserve to be singled out for praise," she demurred.

"I'm aware of just how many helped but it is you who convinced so many to stand for me. Without your insistence, I doubt anyone would've bothered. It is you who convinced the Wizengamot, and I am grateful. Contrary to how I behaved last night, I am."

"It was my sincere pleasure to have helped in some small way, sir," she said with a small, tentative smile.

Her smile put him at ease for some strange reason and gave him the courage to press on.

"May I ask, Miss Granger...why did you do this? Why did you work to clear my name after I asked you not to?"

Although his tone was even and calm, his eyes gave away so much. In them, she could see annoyance, curiosity and a touch of amazement, if she wasn't mistaken.

"I know I angered you, sir, by disobeying you. But I simply couldn't sit idly by and see an innocent man sentenced to death. Regardless of how you view your past, I can assure you that I...and the wizarding world see you very differently," she answered honestly.

She braced herself for his wrath, after all that must be why he was really here, still looking to exact some punishment from her for going against his wishes. But, oddly enough, it never came.

"I see," he offered softy, still looking unconvinced.

She shifted in her chair as silence fell once more. He seemed to be weighing what exactly he wanted to say next so she patiently sat before him, her own nerves building.

"Miss Granger...I know it was you who saved my life the night of the final battle," he finally said, meeting her eyes once more.

Her eyes popped wide with surprise. Had he remembered her there, had he remembered their kiss?

"Y-Yes, sir," she quietly admitted, her eyes downcast, "how...how did you know it was me?"

"I remember you being there," he said, recalling the memories flashing before his mind's eye.

"I didn't know it was you at the time, the pain was too debilitating to focus on my surroundings but I remember feeling your fingers on my neck as you closed my wound. You poured a potion down my throat and then...", his voice trailed off as he recalled the memory of a warmth that graced his lips, a tenderness that soothed him even now just thinking about it.

"And then what, sir?", she asked, as her heart pounded and she hung on his every word.

Had it been a kiss? Certainly not, that was impossible. It simply couldn't have come from the lovely, young lady seated before him. This memory, although lovely to revel in, was too hazy and far-fetched to have actually happened. It must have been a hallucination, he convinced himself. So he wisely chose to keep the muddled memory to himself.

"Yes, then I lost consciousness. I hadn't realized it was you who had saved me until Poppy informed me last night, after I...after I was so rude to you."

Hermione let out a slight sigh at this, whether from relief or disappointment, she wasn't sure.

"Miss Granger, may I be so bold as to ask...why did you save me that night?", he asked as his eyes bored into her own, craving an answer to the question that had plagued him since that fateful night.

 _Because like the foolish chit that I am, I've been head-over-heels in love with you for years,_ she thought rather bitterly. But she wisely kept this melancholy thought to herself.

"Sir, I...I saw you injured and...and dying, and I couldn't let you die," she said softly, tears suddenly pricking her eyes as she remembered how he looked when she had found him that night.

"I see," he nodded. "You would've saved whomever you encountered, you're just good-hearted that way," he said, dismissing her act as mere pity on her part, nothing more to it.

"Sir, no," she said adamantly. "I am not so noble as you make me out to be. I saw many fall that day, some I could've helped were I not needed elsewhere. But you, sir...I saved you purposefully. I saved you because I wanted to," she earnestly.

"And why would you _want_ to save me?", he asked looking truly purplexed.

"Because you're a good man, and I couldn't bare to see you die, not if I could help it."

He felt bile rise in his throat at the words.

"I am no such thing, Miss Granger," he said sharply, his mouth set in a hard line. "I do not deserve this praise," he said with a firm shake of his head.

"Of course, you do, sir."

"I do not," he stated once more but this time with more force as his temper began to flare.

"But, sir," she began.

"Miss Granger!", he snapped, startling her slightly. "Save your praise for someone else. I neither need nor want it," he bit out with far more force than he intended.

"No," she stated defiantly.

"Excuse me?", he asked, rather unaccustomed to being talked back to.

"No, sir. I will not hold my back my praise. You asked me a question and I am answering honestly and you will let me finish!", she snapped in retort.

"Miss Granger," he said warningly.

"No! For once, hold your tongue and just please listen to me!", she yelled, standing from her seat as her anger took hold again.

Her raised voice stunned him into unusual silence.

"You risked your life to keep us all safe. And that's not something that should be so easily glossed over to suit you. This isn't some triviality, it's your whole life's work and it deserves praise, whether you agree or not," she said angrily, shaking her head in frustration at having to defend her actions.

"I needed to do this," she said more softly. "I needed the world to know the real you. Because I owe you my life, and the lives of my friends, many times over. You may not believe this just yet, but you do deserve this, all this and more."

"We've all done things we've regretted. But that doesn't make you any less admirable," she said as she sat down beside him on the sofa.

"Admirable? I'm a criminal, Miss Granger. Nothing more," he said resolutely, looking away from her imploring eyes.

"So, you wanted to rot in prison?", she asked disbelievingly. "What good would that have done? I don't know if you've noticed, but we're struggling here and could genuinely use some help," she said, desperate for this stoic man to hear her and understand.

She blew out an angry sigh and stared into the dancing flames of the fire while Severus opted for silence.

"You can keep carrying on as the miserable, cruel potions master. You really can if you like. But it just doesn't fit anymore does it? There are no more demons to fight," she said defiantly.

"There's always demons, Miss Granger," he offered as he looked her in the eye.

"If you say so, sir," she said, looking a bit defeated.

She could see his anger and resignation rolling in once more like the afternoon tide, reliable and unwavering. How could she make him see? What could she say or do to convince him of his considerable worth?

And then, it hit her. Maybe the path to convincing him of his own worth wasn't to browbeat him into seeing things her way, but rather to try and see the world from his perspective. It was empathy he needed right now. If she wanted to be understood, maybe she needed to understand him first.

"Sir," she began, more softly this time, "forgive me for my impertinent tongue. I would never think to presume to know how you feel...but I imagine that this is all very hard for you, " she said looking both anguished and contrite as realization hit her.

"Leading the dangerous life you did, where the only possible route of salvation could be death...Neither I, nor anyone else can begin to know the depths of what you've faced. And if...", she paused, feeling a rush of emotions, "if you truly did want to die that night and I stole that from you...then I am sorry to have hurt you. To make you stay here longer than you had wanted was a cruel thing to inflict upon you," she said, tears suddenly falling down her cheeks as she looked down at her hands, feeling this guilt take hold.

Seeing her so distraught, he felt something painful catch inside of his chest, something strange, something he couldn't remember ever feeling so acutely. It was anguish. And the sight of her looking so defeated made his anger crack and subside.

"Miss Granger, there is no need for you to apologize. You had no way of knowing how I felt. You were doing a noble deed, as Gryffindors are want to do," he begrudgingly admitted. "I don't know fully yet how I feel about surviving. Many emotions, to be sure, but above all else I feel...undeserving. And that is no fault of yours, let me assure. That is something I must parse through. You truly do not need to apologize to me," he said desperately trying to ease the pain he had caused her with his thoughtless words and actions.

But she simply wiped her eyes and shook her head in response.

"No, sir, I do need to apologize. Because I can see now that I...I took something from you. Something you needed and I hurt you by doing that. I am sorry, sir," she said sadly.

Leaning back against the sofa, she looked tired and worn out, like a prize-fighter limping out of the ring after an unbelievable knock-out.

"For so long, I've lived in a black and white world, right and wrong, good and bad," she said, staring into the fire. "At least I thought that was how the world was... It felt easier, simpler somehow to believe that. But now I see all the gray around me. People who I thought were good making bad choices, people who I thought were...", she paused looking up at him with the word 'bad' sitting right on the tip of her tongue.

"People who I had _underestimated,"_ she said carefully, "proving themselves in amazing ways. I thought I knew it all and it turns out I don't know very much at all," she offered with a sad smile.

"Welcome to adulthood," he said with a small smile, meeting her eyes.

She smiled but it didn't quite reach her tired, brown eyes.

"I was being selfish that night. An insufferable know it all, as usual. I saw too many good souls perish in my time and to let you slip away for the want of a few potions, well...I couldn't let that happen."

"Maybe I was wrong to save you that night. Maybe I should've left you to rest in peace...but what if you were meant to have a second chance? What if you have more good to do here? What if you're just beginning?", she asked with genuine hope in her voice.

How he wanted to believe her words and take that hope deep within him and carry it like a torch against the darkness of his soul. The notion that he could find redemption here sounded like such a lovely idea but deep down, he knew it was a dream that he had lost the night Lily died. And he simply didn't know how to ever get it back.

"You really think I can do any good here?", he asked disbelievingly.

"I do, because you're a good, honorable man... a man worth saving," she said honestly, sitting up and holding his gaze.

"And I...I always knew you were on our side, sir," she said boldly.

"How? How could you possibly know? After how deplorably I treated you these many years? Why waste any kindness upon me at all?", he demanded, his eyes flashing not only anger but also disbelief.

"Because you saved us too many damn times for it to be an act. Had you really been against us, you could've let us die many times. But you never did. You're truly selfless and incredibly brave, sir."

"I do believe you're confusing me with Mr. Potter," he quipped, trying to dismiss her compliments.

"No, Harry's brave certainly, but it was never his choice, you see. He was destined to be the man who killed Voldemort, it was foretold. And believe me, Harry hated it. He hated having the responsibility, the pressure, the inevitability of it all."

"He was forced to be selfless while you gave of yourself freely. He wanted nothing more than to be a normal child, with two parents and a happy childhood. He would have happily given up this burden and turned his back on this life had he been given any choice in the matter."

"Are you calling your friend a coward?", he asked looked taken aback by her astute observation.

"Of course, not. Harry's incredibly brave, few could've done what he did. But I do know he would've walked away if he could have. And I don't think I would've blamed him," she said honestly.

"But you...you _willingly_ stayed and fought and...it's really quite incredible," she said, looking awe-struck at the man before her and offered him a small, genuine smile.

How this young, pure woman could think so highly of him was truly a mystery that Severus just couldn't seem to crack. He smiled slightly at her, unaccustomed to speaking so freely and so comfortably with anyone, let alone a former student. It somehow felt...right, good even, to be speaking to her and giving voice to his many concerns and worries. It turned out, she was surprisingly easy to talk to.

"I might point out that you stayed as well, Miss Granger. You were under no obligation to fight this war and yet you did," he kindly offered.

"Yes, but I had friends depending upon me. They needed me, and in truth, I needed them. From what I can tell, you didn't have nearly the same reasons for staying."

"I didn't have a choice," he said sadly, looking down at his hands in his lap. "Lily Potter died because of me, I had to do something...anything to make up for that. I really didn't have any choice at all."

"I must politely disagree once more, sir," she said, her boldness causing her to challenge him. "If there is one thing I've learned throughout all of this, is that there is always choice. They may not be great choices, but they do exist."

"A lesser man would've fled," she noted. "You could've made an entirely new life for yourself, but you didn't. You stayed because you're a good person, with a good heart. We wouldn't have made it... _I_ wouldn't have made it without you. So, thank you. Thank you for staying, for fighting, for protecting all of us, me especially," she said with warmth and gratitude.

He eyed her then, scarcely taking in her kind, eloquent words.

"I guess that's why I saved you," she said kindly. "I never had the chance to properly thank you for saving me, countless times."

"Thank you, sir. I would not be sitting here without you," she said sincerely.

His gut reaction was to dismiss the words and the sentiment they conveyed. But hadn't he spent a lifetime needlessly dismissing others? Perhaps this new lease on life required a new outlook, and being more gracious seemed like a good place to begin.

He realized as he sat next to her, sharing this space and this moment, that sometimes the need to express gratitude was as great as the need to be forgiven. For both represented the same underlying desire; to be understood and have that feeling be accepted and acknowledged as valid.

If she could be gracious enough to grant him absolution for his atrocious behavior, then he could certainly return the favor and accept her gratitude even if he didn't feel like he deserved it.

He breathed out a sigh and offered a slight nod.

"You're welcome," he finally managed, as a small smile graced his lips.

She smiled in return and breathed her own sigh of relief. Her first sit-down with her dear professor that hadn't ended in tears or dismissals. This felt like progress, like the start of something new between the unlikely pair. The power dynamic that had been so rigidly set in place all these years seemed to waver and crack ever so slightly, as the student and teacher moved into the new terrain of simply being equals of sorts, perhaps even becoming friends.

"While I will reluctantly accept your gratitude, I need to know that you will also accept mine," he stated firmly.

"Thank you, Miss Granger, for saving me, three times."

She smiled at his words but creased her brow in confusion.

"Sir, I didn't save you three times. I helped you the night of the final battle and on your trial. That's only two occasions," she said with a confused expression.

"You surprise me, Miss Granger, it's unlike you to forget details. Your memory seems to be failing you," he said with a warm smirk.

"You saved me once from a painful, poisonous death, another from a life in Azkaban and another from a feral werewolf."

"Sir, I believe it is you who are recalling things incorrectly," she said softly, "for it was you who saved me from Professor Lupin that night by the Whomping Willow."

"No, Miss Granger. I remember that night very clearly. You held on to me...so very tightly. And you pulled me back just as Lupin lunged at me. Had you not done that, I would've been shredded to pieces before Black could've intervened. So, thank you for saving me, three times more than you should have," he said with a reluctant smile.

"My pleasure, sir," she said with a small smile.

"As repayment for those heroic and foolish deeds, I owe you, three times over, for saving my own life and I fully intend on repaying those debts," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Sir, I don't understand," looking confused once more. "You plan to repay me?"

"Indeed. My godson kindly reminded me last night that it is not in keeping with the House of Slytherin to leave a debt unpaid. I owe you three life debts. So whatever you wish of me, you shall have it," he said resolutely.

 _Whatever I wish? Your heart, then. I'll take that, please,_ she thought with a small smile and a chuckle.

"Did I say something amusing?", his asked teasingly, his voice silky and rich.

"No, sir, not at all," she said with a smile.

"Very well, then. What can I do to repay you?", he asked once more.

"I can ask anything of you and you'll do it?", she asked looking truly incredulous.

"Anything within reason, Miss Granger. Don't expect me to bake Hagrid a birthday cake or knit sweaters for the house elves," he said with pursed lips and a quirked eyebrow.

She chuckled as her thoughts ran rampant with creative ideas but she knew what she wanted of him, and it didn't involve anything too ridiculous. She simply hoped he wouldn't refuse her.

"Very well, sir. If it is agreeable to you, I would like two things," she began.

"First, I would like you to listen to Poppy and start take your healing potions. Seeing you get better is something I would very much like to see," she said. When he didn't object, she took that as her sign to press on and ask for the bigger favor of the two.

"Then...once you are fully healed, I would like you to remain here at the castle and help us rebuild. _Help me,_ that is. The help I have here now is just not cutting it. We're all run down from the war and we need more manpower. At the rate we're working, this school won't be ready to reopen for several years. I can't stand the idea of that, of so many children putting their education on hold, not experiencing this marvelous place. I need to see this through and your help would make it immensely easier," she said hopefully.

 _Selfless to a fault. Such a silly, brave-hearted Gryffindor_ , he thought with small smile.

Although he had not planned to remain here at the castle, he truthfully had no concrete life plans at the moment and renovating the school was obviously something very near and dear to the young woman. Taking in her impassioned plea and eyes full of hope, he vowed, then and there, to never disappoint her again. It was the least he could do for the woman who had saved him, three times over, no less.

He sighed and offered a reluctant nod.

"Very well, Miss Granger, if those are two things you wish of me, then you shall have them. But, remember I owe you three debts. You still have one favor left to ask for," he reminded her.

"I think those things will more than amply repay me," she said graciously.

"No, I insist. Three favors for three debts," he said adamantly.

"Well, then. In that case, I think I'll hold onto my last favor. Maybe there is more I will need from you in the future," she said with a wry smile.

"I will hold you to it," he said offering her his hand to seal their deal.

"Thank you, sir," she said, as she shook it with a warm smile on her face.

He offered a polite nod in return, feeling his chest lighten as some small glimmer of purpose and hope began to burn bright in his heart.

 _~~~~0000~~~~_

Sirius was sweating and covered from head to toe in dirt and grime as he headed down the long corridor towards the infirmary. Clutching his right hand tight against his chest, a make shift blood-soaked bandage wrapped tight around it, he was muttering a torrent of obscenities to match his foul mood.

As he rounded the corner, he was surprised to find Poppy standing just outside the infirmary. Leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, she was peering into her room through a small crack in the door with a genuine smile on her face.

"Poppy, have you got any dittany? I sliced my hand wide open on a broken window and the damn thing won't stop bleeding," Sirius groused as he reached her.

"Sshhhhh!" Poppy said testily, ignoring his query, her eyes and attention still focused in the infirmary.

"Didn't you hear me, woman? My hand is gushing here! I'm seconds away from death!", he said huffily at being dismissed in his obvious state of agony.

"Oh, would you hush for a damn second and take a look!", she hissed quietly as she pulled him closer so he too could peer into the infirmary.

His eyes followed her gaze and landed on a stunning sight.

Hermione was carefully helping Severus walk back to his bed, her arm slung tight around his waist, as he gently leaned on her for support. As they reached his bed and the potions master sat down heavily upon it, Hermione gently slipped off the borrowed jacket and helped get him settled against his pillow. She then carefully pulled the covers up and tucked him in. She sat down on a stool beside him, and the pair began to quietly talk while Hermione handed him vial after vial of healing potions, each of which Severus was reluctantly taking.

The pain radiating through Sirius' hand was momentarily forgotten as he looked at Poppy and shared a warm smile with the mediwitch.

"Well, I'll be damned," Sirius said with a grin. "He's finally taking his potions," he said softly, a touch of awe in his deep voice.

She nodded with a small, triumphant smile.

"It's nice to see him coming around a bit. I knew if anybody could get that old codger to pull his head out of his arse it would be Hermione," he said with a smirk.

"Indeed," Poppy said with a smile, as she breathed a deep sigh of relief at the sight.

"It looks like Miss Granger has managed a miracle today," she said softly.

"I think he's finally got something to live for," she said with a knowing smile that was not lost on the animagus.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Hello, everybody! A thousand apologies for the long wait for this update. I can't believe it's been three months! I'm so sorry! I hope this chapter meets with your approval. It originally clocked in at over 11,000 words and it just felt too long for a single chapter. So I split it in two, one for today and the next one (CH. 14) posted next Sunday.**

 **A huge, amazing thank you to all the new follows, favorites and comments, especially from my frequent reviewers. Each of you beautiful souls are wonderful and I simply adore every lovely word you write. Thanks for sticking with this story :)**

 **And lastly, a heartfelt thank you and a big, bowl of toasty, roasty sweet potatoes for** **the lovely, talented, incomparable _Marcella Dix ,_ for the ever-present writing support. She's an exceptional writer and dear friend who inspires and encourages me, which is no easy task. She's the absolute best.**

 **I hope you all are doing well, enjoying a nice, relaxing end to your summer and reading some lovely stories. Till we meet again, take care :)**

 **Quick Recap: (Just in case you've forgotten where we left off)**

 **After being found innocent by the Wizengamot and awarded the order of Merlin, Severus lashed out and yelled at Hermione, throwing his medal at her and kicking her out of the infirmary. Hermione threw the medal in the lake and rebuffed Ron's romantic advances and his offer to go to Romania, Ron left without her. About to lose their home to the ministry, Harry invited Draco & Narcissa to stay at the castle, they accepted, agreeing to help fix it. Poppy gave Severus a talking to and with some help from Remus and Sirius, Severus made it to Hermione's common room to apologize. His unexpected visit startled Hermione as she left her room and she would've suffered a terrible fall down the steps had Severus not magically summoned her. This powerful magic was a shock to them both given how weak Severus is and the fact that he did it without his wand. Once she calmed down, he was finally able to apologize. He thanked her for all she did and promised her three favors for the three times she saved him. To repay two of these debts, he has agreed to take his healing potions and finally recover and he's agreed help with the castle reconstruction, which is still quite a mess. Hope that helps :)**

* * *

 _I believe a strong woman may be stronger than a man,_

 _particularly if she happens to have love in her heart._

 _I guess a loving woman is indestructible._

 _\- John Steinbeck_

Narcissa Malfoy had never been a common witch.

From the moment Cygnus and Druella first laid eyes on their youngest daughter they knew she would be simply extraordinary. A stunning baby with an angelic face, an inquisitive gaze and a calm, collected reserve about her. She hardly even cried, but merely observed the world around her with an avid, dignified curiosity. Yes, she was destined to be special from the very start.

As she grew, she became effortlessly beautiful and graceful, growing into her considerable beauty with ease and ample grace. Even as a young girl, her clear, cerulean blue eyes and pin straight, lustrous blonde hair that shone like spun gold garnered her much attention and affection from both family and friends alike. Even strangers in Diagon Alley would openly 'ooh' and 'awe' at the poised child. She was the perfect blend of her regal, commanding father and elegant, exquisite mother. Her father always introduced her first to visitors and he called her his pride and joy, a moniker that did not go unnoticed by her two observant and often jealous, older sisters.

And as if her looks alone didn't set her apart as exceptional, she also possessed an unusually sharp mind that at times, far surpassed the ability of many adults around her. Puzzles, riddles, learning new languages, it all came so effortlessly. By the age of ten, she was an accomplished polyglot in Latin, Greek, French, German and Italian and her magical energy was already fined-tuned and easily harnessed. She could effortlessly transfigure simple objects, cast effective charms and even throw several strong hexes that ensured her two sisters would think twice before crossing her.

Articulate, sharp-minded, beautiful, poised and confidant, she was everything a Black woman aught to be and everything her sisters failed to be.

Bella, with her wild hair, hot temper and quick mouth, was always brash and unpredictable, often embarrassing her parents with her rude behavior and uncouth tongue.

Andromeda, on the other hand, was mousy and quiet, she was pretty but in a plain way, smart enough but no where near the top of her class and polite without being graceful or particularly charming. She was the reserved one who often tried to disappear in the Black family, it was just easier for everyone that way.

That left plenty of room for Narcissa to be front and center as the esteemed golden child. In truth, she could do no wrong in her parents' eyes.

Narcissa walked softly, unlike Bella, yet carried a big stick, unlike Andromeda. She could be persuasive and beguiling when the mood struck her, or fierce and downright frightening when her considerable charms failed to produce the desired results.

More stunning and gracious than Bella and more astute and beguiling than Andromeda, everyone either wanted to be Narcissa Black or date her. She had the power of being effortlessly beautiful coupled with an esteemed family name, she was admired by all.

Once at Hogwarts, she excelled far beyond her peers in every subject, quickly garnering her ample praise from her professors. She especially enjoyed her advanced studies in the human body and had even briefly contemplated a career in the healing arts, given her affinity and ability it would've been an exceptional fit. But her parents adamantly disapproved of the notion of a career and the idea of working. In truth, her intellect mattered little in the Black household. For she possessed attributes that could not be gleaned from a textbook or lesson, talents that could secure her lifelong comfort far better than a job ever could. So any talk of graduate studies or apprecticeships were quickly and quietly dropped from Narcissa's future. As a female in one of the most esteemed wizarding families, her true worth was measured by her poise and beauty and in that regard she was worth her weight in gold.

When the time came to arrange her marriage, many suitors came calling. The Braxton's' oldest boy, Alexander, courted her for well over a year but to no avail. And even the dashing Avery Cartwright, the heir to the considerable Honeyduke's fortune sought her hand, but it was the regal, handsome and persistent Lucius Malfoy who won her coveted hand and heart.

For Lucius offered her the one thing she had never been granted, the one thing she had never once possessed: pure, genuine, unrepentant love. Every would-be suitor who had graced the Black parlor seeking an audience with her austere father had spoken of financial security and real estate holdings, of blood purity and exceptional lineage but not a single one had mentioned Narcissa as a worthy, beautiful woman in her own right. They were there solely to win a prize, the most esteemed daughter of the most esteemed family. They were after her name and pedigree, not her and it galled her to no end. Sat in the corner of the drawing room like a piece of well-dressed chattel, she silently fumed while being completely ignored by those obnoxious would-be suitors and their insufferable fathers during these formal and painfully long events. They might as well have been there to buy livestock for all the interest they showed in Narcissa herself.

But Lucius Malfoy was different. He was a confident, young fellow, his family just as well-known and prestigious as the Blacks. No, he needn't waste his time time delineating the many ways the Blacks would benefit from marrying into the Malfoys. Lucius left this little matter to his capable father, Abraxas Malfoy, a rather persuasive and downright intimidating man, to win over Cygnus. This allowed Lucius to focus all his unwavering attention on the young, exquisite lady sat before the large, library window, looking throughly bored as she stared listlessly out into the evening sky.

That first time they met, when he joined her in her solitude by her perch at the window, their fathers talking boisterously by with fire, Narcissa distinctly remembered his eyes. They were a pale, icy blue, just like her own, but with flecks of gold woven through, as if fire ran through his very veins. They reminded her so much of a wolf; sharp and keen yet beautiful and lovely in their rarity. And those eyes never seemed to leave her that night. His gaze was piercing and electrifying to the point of being distracting. Her pale skin flushed a rosy hue with sudden warmth under that unwavering, alluring gaze as this dashing man sat beside her, his smooth, rich voice and easy smile unwittingly causing her pulse to quicken beneath her breast.

That lovely spring night, he had spoken of poetry and celestial bodies, of his advanced studies in potion brewing, of his travels through Europe visiting the finest museums and art galleries. He was cultured and witty, handsome and romantic and he hung on her every word she said. For her wanted to know every little thing about her; her favorite books, her interests at school, how she liked her tea, what treats and colors she liked the most, her greatest wishes, her deepest fears. He wanted to know all of her, the real her, the side that most wouldn't have bothered to ask about. And that interest, that seemingly unquenchable inquisitiveness, laced with want and desire made Narcissa positively weak in the knees. Before her head hit her pillow that night, she knew, she simply knew, she had met just the man she would marry.

The attraction, the connection they immediately and greatly shared was undeniable and the match was soon approved by both families. But it was more than a contract of convenience for the young, privileged pair. It was deeper than that.

For Narcissa truly did love Lucius just as much as he loved her. Her sharp mind, her shrewd demeanor, her invincibility. He wanted her as a wife, a lover, a partner, an ally. She was breathtakingly beautiful, to be sure, yet she was also so much more than that. For a beautiful wife with a good name were a knut a dozen. A truly smart wizard didn't want just eye candy, for physical beauty was commodity that quickly faded and ultimately added very little value to a man's worth. No, a smart wizard wanted a smart wife, a powerful wife. For the one you tied your lifeblood to could prove to be a man's greatest asset or his biggest liability. And Lucius saw an equal in Narcissa, one he could not pass up.

The day of their wedding, Lucius looked as proud and boastful as a prize cock, puffing his chest and smiling a wide, triumphant grin at the elegant witch by his side who now wore his family ring on her wedding finger and bore his name with honor and pride.

"You will never want for anything, my love. You shall have the world at your fingertips," he had whispered to his lovely bride, his lips brushing against her earlobe.

True to his word, Lucius had given her the world. Exquisite jewelry, a stately mansion, the finest fashions, the most loyal of servants, a smart son, all her heart could ever desire and more. But he had never mentioned the heavy price she would have to pay.

Blood purity and the importance of heritage had long been ingrained in the Black household but Narcissa had always taken it with a grain of salt, that is until Lucius had ingratiated himself among the worst people. These people were vulgarians and crackpots as far as she was concered. Of course, she didn't give a good goddamn what mudbloods and halfbreeds carried on with. Her wealth and position insulated her well far and away from the fray and daily trivialities of commoners. She honestly couldn't care less what those sort of people got up to so long as her creature comforts and status were maintained. She, in fact, operated in a world so far well removed, she may as well have lived on another planet.

But Lucius felt differently. Never one to miss an opportunity to climb the social ladder to an even loftier rung, he saw Tom Riddle and his cause, morally-questionable as it may be, as a way to further elevate their pure blood name to an even more exalted realm, one reserved for only the most prominent of wizarding families. With that type of recognition came both social and financial power, and if there was one thing Lucius Malfoy loved more than his wife, it was power. He would do whatever it took to cement the Malfoy name for all time as a family of wealth and influence.

And cement them he did.

Narcissa remembered that fateful night well, when the well-laid path of their future took a sharp and irrevocable turn for the worse.

She had been pregnant with Draco, her belly just starting to swell, her hands wrapped protectively around the growing child as she worriedly paced in the dimly lit library of their stately mansion. She stared out into the rainy night, her brow creased with worry, waiting for Lucius to return, who had been due home hours ago.

She knew it was an important night, one in which the Dark Lord was counting upon Lucius to provide some sort of vital information, but Narcissa wasn't privy to the details. She only knew her usually charismatic and confidant husband had been dreading this night, withdrawing and becoming more and more quiet as the day approached. He was to prove himself that night to the Dark Lord, but he wouldn't elaborate on what exactly that would include. The vagueness and secrecy had left her feeling more than a bit worried for him and their family.

Near midnight, Lucius finally arrived home. He appeared in a whoosh of soot and green flames and tumbled out of the fireplace. Clutching his stomach, his hands covered in his own blood, he collapsed in a breathless heap on the hearth floor.

"Lucius!", she screamed, rushing to his striken form and falling beside him. She pulled him close, her eyes widening in shock at his motionless body.

"What's happened?! Who did this to you?!", she wailed, her hysterical voice cracking with grief and fear.

"Stop...the bleeding, Cissa...please," he croaked, his eyes barely open, his usually handsome robes covered in blood and filth.

For once she was thankful to have such a skilled hand at healing as she quickly summoned her wand and immediately, although frantically, healed his several deep stab wounds and replenished his lost blood.

When his gravest injuries were cauterized, she levitated him to their couch to allow him some measure of comfort and proceeded to spend the next hour cleaning his wounds to prevent infection, suturing several cuts around his face and setting multiple broken bones. When his injuries were finally attended to and his pain medications dispensed, only then did she speak once more. Her voice now was soft and choked with emotion.

"Lucius, how did this happen?"

"I disappointed him," he simply answered, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and shame.

"I don't understand, I thought..."

"I had believed the information I had delivered to be valid, but it turns out I was wrong. It cost him several loyal followers. He was...very angry that I didn't offer a _worthwhile_ contribution," he replied, his own voice clipped and bitter.

"And he tried to murder you for this?! What kind of a maniac is he!?", she offered, jumping to her feet in outrage.

"We must contact the ministry at once, something must be done to stop him!", she raged, striding to the fireplace to Floo call the proper authorities.

"No, Cissa!", he shouted the very first time that night and in truth, for the first time in their marriage.

"We can not tell a soul of this. It will be the death of us," he said gravely, his usual confidence and bravado completely vanished.

"But he cursed you within an inch of your life, Lucius! How can you be so blasé about this!", she pleaded.

"His intent was not to kill me, merely punish me for my poor performance. He's a complicated man,...I...I didn't perform to my best ability and it angered him. This was to be expected," he said trying to rationalize the atrocity he had just experienced.

"Expected?! Have you lost your mind!?", she roared, not caring about holding her tongue anymore.

"This is just his way of dealing with people," he said wearily, closing his eyes in defeat as he rested his aching head on the couch pillow, not being able to bare his irate wife after the night he had.

Seeing her husband so injured, so uncharacteristically weak, she felt her ire slowly drain. Finding herself too tired to keep up the angry front, she let out a heavy sigh as she sat beside him once more and took his shaking hand in her own.

"He's hurt you like this before, hasn't he?", she asked softly, gently tracing the old, healed scars that laced his hand.

Lucius let out a soft sigh and gave a simple nod.

"I'm usually able to heal it before I return home. But the bleeding was too severe this time," he admitted, looking ashamed.

"Why haven't you told me?", she asked tearfully, feeling betrayed and confused.

"I didn't want to worry you, love," he said, squeezing her hand, looking tearful himself.

"I'm just glad you waited up for me tonight," he said with a small smile, as his fingers gently carresed her cheek. The tender move only caused her eyes to shut with pure anguish.

"Lucius, please," she softly begged. "I almost lost you. We can not allow these lunatics in our lives any longer. What will become of us? And the baby?"

"You don't understand, Cissa. I can't turn him away, he's too powerful now," he said, his voice just above a whisper.

"Fine, than we'll leave. We can start over somewhere else. My father still has a home in Switzerland, we'll go there. Or we can buy somewhere in the Americas or...", she began hopefully but he cut her off with a sad shake of his head, pulling his hand from her flushed cheek.

"There is nowhere to go, dearest," he said simply, matter-of-factly. "No corner of this earth that is far enough or safe enough where he could not find us."

"You mean to say...he would h-hunt us?", she asked, her voice quavering.

Resignation and a single nod met her question.

"Dear Merlin, who have you let into our lives?", she asked, suddenly realizing just how much her husband had been keeping from her.

"Dearest, everything will be fine. You just need to calm down and think about this rationally," he tried but her full rage and hurt was finally bubbling over.

"You damn near bleed to death on my grandmother's carpet not one hour ago, so you don't get to tell me to calm down!", she screamed, her indignation bubbling up once more as she stood and moved from him.

"Cissa, we will be safe. We just have to see this through. He will be in a more powerful position soon and we will benefit from remaining loyal. We just have to calm down and be patient," he insisted adamantly.

"And what if you disappoint him again?! You're gambling with our lives! He'll kill us along with our child! We have to get away now, Lucius!"

Pulling his aching body from the couch and standing upon shaky legs, he leaned heavily upon the settee but managed to pull himself up to his full height. He then looked at his wife with a stern, somber look, one that she had never seen on her husband's face before.

"Now you listen to me, Narcissa. I will always keep us safe, no matter what. You and our baby are the most important things in the world to me. I will guard you both with my life. Do you believe me?", he demanded, his voice firm although he could barely stay on his feet.

She only met this declaration with an icy, angry glare, her thin arms crossed tight.

"Do you believe me?", he repeated but this too went ignored.

"Do you believe me, Narcissa?", he asked once more, the anger in his voice ebbing away as he stepped closer and took her hand in his own.

"Yes," she reluctantly offered, her rigid shoulders sagging, looking away.

"Do you trust in me?", he asked, gently cupping her chin and pulling her face to look at him.

"Not at the moment," she answered truthfully.

"Before tonight, have I ever given you reason not to trust me?", he shrewdly asked his wife.

"No. But you never almost died before tonight," came her sharp reply, pulling once more from his comforting touch, to turn and stare into the flickering fire.

"Cissa, please," he begged, feeling more and more exhausted with each passing moment he stood stood on his aching legs.

"Do you trust me?", he ardently asked, his smooth voice laced with desperation.

"Yes, I trust you," she finally said. "I've always trusted you," she sadly admitted, her face gently lit by the flickering hearth. She suddenly felt a thousand years old.

"Then you must trust me now more than ever when I say that we can not run or hide. I can only protect us if we remain, _if I_ remain by his side. It's far safer to stay where we are, believe me."

"But Lucius," she began.

"Cissa, please. Don't you see? We're in too deep. I've made a mistake and we must see this through. Our wealth, our name won't protect us should he decide to dispense with us. These meetings I've attended have involved far more than angry rhetoric. I've done things I'm not proud of. I've seen things. Things that would...things that would forever change how you see me," he admitted, finally collapsing into the wingback he had been clutching for support. He, too, looked to have aged a great deal this night.

"Lucius...you've not been involved with the muggle disappearances, have you? Have you...have you harmed anyone?", she asked disbelievingly, although in truth she didn't want to know the answers. And Lucius knew this as well.

Silence fell for a long moment, neither knowing how they landed themselves in such a predicament.

"We must stay," he finally declared, as he shakily rose from the chair. "You don't want to know what he does to those who flee."

The thinly veiled threat was enough to quiet his wife for the night as Lucius headed to bed. As he hobbled through the library doors, he turned back to find Narcissa clutching the mantle, her face hidden from him. But by the gentle sagging of her slim shoulders, he knew she was utterly devestated.

"I'm sorry, love," he gently called to her. "I'm so damn sorry."

As the door to the library closed shut with a gentle thud, Narcissa collapsed in a heap in the chair recently vacated by her husband. It was still warm.

Everywhere she looked she saw her husband's blood; on her creme-colored dressing gown, caked beneath her once-perfect manicure, laced along the edges of her delicate hands, soaked through the carpet that had been a wedding gift from her mother. She began to shake uncontrollably as the weight of it all settled upon her.

Just a few short hours ago she had lived in perfect ignorance of her husband's dealings and now she knew it all, far too well. She chastised herself for her naiveté, her blind faith in him, her pitiful ignorance that almost cost her her husband. Had she not been up to see him home, Lucius would've bled to death, not five feet from where she was sitting and that thought stole her breath away.

But what was worse than how close they came to death, was the terrifying knowledge that tonight was just the beginning. She couldn't see the end of this twisting road, she didn't know what would be expected of them in the future, what other sacrifices they would have to make. It was an unknown variable and it scared her to death.

Given the uncertainty, she had little choice but to trust her husband to see her through this; the man she loved more than life itself, the man who got them in this mess, the man who lead a whole secret, terrifying life she had known nothing of. This was man she had tied herself to for life. It suddenly struck her that she didn't know her husband, not the real him, at least. He felt more a stranger at that moment than her beloved.

The tears came all at once and she wept for one of the first times in her privileged life, for she felt well and truly vulnerable and that frightened her to her very core. These people they had aligned with, socialized with, had hosted in their home, they weren't just some right-wing political group. They were sociopaths, closer to a well-organized violent militia than a lobbying group and this night opened her eyes to the dangerous waters her small family now found themselves treading to stay afloat in.

"Oh dear, Merlin...what have we done," she softly sobbed, clutching her belly tenderly, her growing child blissfully unaware of the dangerous world into which he would soon enter. How she wished she, too, could be ignorant once more.

Rubbing her belly, her stinging tears wetting her filthy gown, fear and anxiety seized her heart tight. It all felt so very hopeless in that terrifying moment of clarity. It was then, in her deepest moment of despair, that she suddenly felt the most incredible feeling, a sensation she would remember for the rest of her life.

Her hand rested on her small belly when she felt it: a small, unmistakable kick, right beneath her left hand.

She immediately stilled, her brain disbelieving what she had just felt. Surely it was too soon to actually feel her baby moving? Holding as still as a statue, barely breathing, her hands still firmly in place, she waited. Waited and hoped to feel that beautiful moment again. And then she felt it once more.

Two strong kicks right into the palm of her hand.

She felt blessed and cursed at the exact same moment.

A soothing warmth and joy spread through her at the knowledge that she wasn't alone, not really, and she never would be again. She would soon have a child, and with that came a love like no other. This child was a blessing if she ever saw one.

But she also immediately felt the crushing weight of duty that this particular love would bring, that she would have to protect this child with everything she had; her name, her influence, her cunning, even with her life, if need be.

Could she do it? Could she be that strong? She prayed to Merlin and every deity in the heavens that she could be, that she would be when the time came.

"Oh, my sweet baby," she softly uttered, "It's going to be alright. It's going to be just fine, don't you worry. Mummy's here," she offered confidently, her hands carefully, rhythmically stroking her belly, the act soothing her as much as her restless child.

The stakes were higher than ever for they would soon have a child to worry about. And she knew, right then and there that she would do whatever it took to protect her husband and baby. They were all she really had and she couldn't bare to lose them.

Walking away, going against the Dark Lord wasn't a viable option, not after tonight. It was either toe the line or be killed.

And so it began. Despite their deep reservations and fears, they stayed at the Dark Lord's side. They publically remained loyal followers of the maniac even during his many years of absence. And they did it because they knew he would return. And they would be rewarded for their loyalty or at the very least, they could escape the psychopath's inevitable wrath.

They weighed their options carefully and thought they had backed a winner. But as the unsinkable Harry Potter had proven at the final battle, the Malfoys had chosen rather poorly.

Staring out at the several aurors and ministry officials that now littered her front lawn, Narcissa stood in her empty bedroom, devoid of all her personal possessions save for her full trunk. She pulled her gaze away from the unwanted visitors and donned her traveling cloak with a smart swish of the dark green fabric.

Today was the day, the day her new life began, the day her home was being officially seized by the Ministry.

Casting one last glance around her barren bedroom, she reluctantly snapped her traveling case shut and shrunk it in order to easily pocket it. She closed the door shut with a crisp click and made the long walk down the east wing of her now-empty home towards the stairs.

She knew the ministry officials were waiting impatiently outside, could hear their laughter and chitchat through the windows, but she honestly didn't give a damn about their time and thus she didn't rush. They could stand in the blazing, hot sun and cool their heels till end of time for all she cared.

She strolled slowly through the empty hall, noting the wall markings where all of their family pictures had hung until recently. She ghosted a hand over the spot where her mother's picture had been, suddenly missing the way her mother would always smile at her as she passed by.

Descending the steps carefully and slowly, she finally made it to her empty front foyer, the click-clack of her heels echoing through the eerily deserted mansion. She absentmindedly rubbed her right earlobe then, feeling Lucius' words from their wedding day jolt through her like a painful shock.

 _You'll never want for anything_.

Glancing around the home that she was about to lose, for Merlin knew how long, she felt the other shoe drop.

She was completely unprepared for this new life that she was expected to lead. Her whole existence had primed her for a life of ease and comfort, she had never once thought she would be without her home, her wealth and status, they had been all but guaranteed. And yet, just like that, it had all vanished. And now she was truly on her own.

The home she had lived in since she was eighteen, the home she had brought Draco home from St. Mungo's to, the home she loving tended to and made for her family, she now had to simply walk away from. Her throat tightened and burned as she swallowed hard at the tears stinging her tired eyes.

Alone, penniless and universally reviled, now seemed like the absolute perfect time to throw in the towel. But as she saw Draco descend the grand staircase, a shrunken traveling case in his hand and a small, hopeful look on his face, she remembered the promise Lucius had made her swear to when he was arrested the morning after Voldemort fell.

Dozens of aurors had bustled into the foyer that morning, unceremoniously hauling Lucius from the breakfast table still in his burgundy dressing robe and pajamas.

"I will fix this, love, trust me. Just take care of Draco, be strong for him," he called over his shoulder as a bewildered and frightened Narcissa clutched a ministry arrest warrant in one hand and her anguished son's trembling hand in the other.

 _Be strong for him._

"The ministry officials are waiting. Are you ready to go, Mother?" Draco gently asked and pulled his mother out of her reverie, their three houselves waiting expectantly by the front door.

"Yes, of course," Narcissa replied, plastering what she hoped was a convincing smile on her face.

The pair wordlessly turned and walked to the tall front doors. As Draco pulled the door open, cheery, morning sunlight greeted them and Narcissa stopped. She turned and offered one last glance at her home.

"We'll be able to return soon, mother. This is just temporary," Draco said softly.

She gave a noncommittal "hmm" as her eyes swept across the barren front hall.

"You heard what our lawyer said, if our accounts and home aren't cleared within a month's time, we can repetition the court directly. We'll be back home soon," Draco said with a false sense of confidence.

"Absolutely," she said, nodding resolutely as much as to convince herself as her son.

"A month's time I wager, by the fall at the very latest," Draco said, "You'll be hosting your annual winter gala in this ballroom, I swear, Mother."

"You're a good son to coddle your mother so," she said with an affectionate smile as she gently patted her son's pale face.

"It's the truth, you'll see," he offered sincerely.

As the pair crossed the threshold, they were welcomed by the muggy summer air, as well as three ministry officials. The shortest of three stepped forward to greet them.

"Mrs. Malfoy, I'm Roland Welch from the Ministry, I'm with the Department of Property Control and Seizure," said the portly man with a rather bushy mustache and an air of annoyed boredom about him.

"Property Control and Seizure?" Narcissa asked with a quirked eyebrow. "I've never heard of that department before, must be new," she noted with an air of incredulity.

"Yes, newly created after the war to deal with all the criminals and their illegal properties," Mr. Welch volleyed back with a sneer.

Narcissa merely smirked back at the rather unimpressive and crude gentleman before her.

"Well, well, how fortunate for you, Mr. Welch," she drawled, her voice thick with pure contempt. "You get to have a fancy job title and a few extra sickles a year, you simply have to benefit off the misfortune of others. How industrious of you," Narcissa taunted, raw anger shining in her eyes.

"I'd watch that tongue of yours, ma'am, if I were you or we'll-", Welch began to threaten with wide, angry eyes but his blustering was cut short.

"Or you'll what?!", Narcissa spat. "Arrest me for being rude? I'd like to see you try," she challenged the man as she towered over him with with defiant, spiteful eyes.

"Mother!" Draco hissed, looking stunned and not a small bit embarrassed by her outburst.

"What is it, Draco? These men have no real power. They're just here doing the minister's biding, aren't you?", she demanded, deriving some small semblance of satisfaction from emasculating the cowards sent to seize her home.

"Besides they've already taken all our money and our estate, son, what else could they possibly do?", she pointed out rather astutely.

"Ma'am, if you could just cooperate it would make it easier on all of us," Welch implored looking rather exasperated at the difficult witch standing before him.

Narcissa held her tongue and merely gave a single nod, already feeling exhausted from the forced effort of being polite to this cretin, especially on today of all days.

Taking her silence as a good sign, Welch pressed on with the matter at hand.

"All residents accounted for?", he asked curtly, referring to a short checklist in his hands.

"Yes, just my son and I," Narcissa replied with equal coolness.

"What about house elves? Magical pets? Personal belongings? All cleared out?", he inquired next.

"All present and accounted for," she replied in a exasperated tone, gesturing to their three elves who stood huddled behind Draco, each looking frightened and wary to be outside of their home.

"Very well, then," he offered with a simple nod as he unfurled a long, thick scroll and began to read aloud in a official-sounding, rote tone.

"By order of Kingsley Shacklebolt, this property will transfer possession from Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy to that of the Ministry of Magic until such time as your personal and business accounts are cleared by the Department of Financial Malfeasance. Kindly sign on the line, as proof of relinquishment," he offered in a spiritless tone as he thrust a quill into Narcissa's hand.

Her earlier anger and bravado suddenly fell away as the gravity of the moment settled upon her. Her hands shook as she gripped the quill, the words on this parchment swimming before her eyes. She swallowed thickly and tried to focus her eyes enough to sign, wanting to get this horrendous moment behind her as quickly as possible. But her hand seemed to halt before the quill could reach the parchment.

"We haven't got all day, Mrs. Malfoy. Four more properties to possess after yours, so speed it along," Mr. Welch snapped irritably, pulling a ratty handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the profuse amount of sweat from his pudgy face.

With a soft sigh and heavy heart, Narcissa finally managed to sign her name and then the deed was done, the property was officially seized. Mr. Welch snatched the parchment back and said without an ounce of sincerity, "Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. Kindly vacate the property within five minutes so we can seal and ward the estate."

And with that Draco and Narcissa were unceremoniously hustled to just beyond the edge of their property by one of the ministry cronies, to make their own way in the world. Staring back across the large, manicured lawn, the pair watched as the officials magically warded and locked the front door and plastered the official ministry decree of seizure to the oaken door. The officials then cast a powerful warning charm around the perimeter of the house so it would appear to give off faint red glow, a telltale sign these days that the property had been seized for criminal investigation.

Narcissa turned away, trying to swallow the sudden tears threatening to ruin her makeup once again this morning.

"Let's get going, Mother," Draco offered kindly, as he gently took hold of his mother's arm to walk her a bit further to the apparition point.

"Agnes," Draco said to one of the waiting house elves, "take Gertie and Bobbin and head to Hogwarts, we'll follow shortly."

The head elf offered a single, reluctant nod and disapparated on the spot, protectively clutching the hands of the two other elves.

That left just mother and son, each thoroughly dejected but both striving to put on a brave front for the other's benefit.

"It is... _kind_ of the headmistress to assist us during this difficult time," Narcissa said, with a tight smile, the offending word coming from her lips like bitter acid burning her tongue.

She inheritantly distrusted the notion of kindness for it represented in its purest form a disproportionate power dynamic; the only people who offered kindness were the powerful and the only people who accepted it were the weak. And on this muggy, summer morning, Narcissa Malfoy was most certainly in the latter category.

She hated even being perceived as weak, let alone actually being weak or even worse being pitied, and to be in another's debt was a position she rarely found herself in. She could have choked on the fury bubbling within her if she allowed herself to dwell on it.

"I know it isn't the best option, but it's the only place that would have us," Draco sadly admitted.

"I know," she acknowledged with a defeated sigh."I know."

"Shall we then?", he asked, holding his arm out for his mother.

She smiled gently at her dear boy, the child she loved since that first kick in her belly, the only reason she got out of bed most mornings. He was trying so hard to care for her and be brave in the face of the terrifying unknown and it was high-time she stopped wallowing in self-pity and started caring for him in equal measure. This would be hard, damn near impossible, if she were being truly honest. But she would do it for Draco, for he was truthfully all she had left.

She gratefully took his proffered arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Chin up, dear boy. Remember, we always have eachother. And we will get through this. I promise," she said resolutely, her eyes not breaking from his.

Draco met this with a half-hearted nod and with that they apparated and left behind their home.

Arriving a moment later on the decimated grounds of Hogwarts, Narcissa let out a breath and steadied herself on the slippery, dewy grass. Seeing the broken castle ahead of her, she smoothed her hair and straightened her back for the rough path that lay before her.

"I really thought I was done with this place," Draco offered with an air of anguish and surprise.

"Me, too," said his mother, softly. "Me, too."

* * *

 **A/N: I know Narcissa is technically only one year younger than Lucius and thus they likely would've met and courted while still students at Hogwarts. But I simply loved the idea of a grand, love-at-first sight type of relationship for these two, thus I wrote the scene above. I don't know...I'm pretty sappy, forgive me :) Lastly, I know this probably wasn't the chapter you were expecting, but I wanted to add a bit to Narcissa's background and life before she and Draco arrived at the castle. Hope that works. Alright, next chapter will be up on Sunday. Till then, take care, my sweet peas & have a fabulous week :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Thanks for all the lovely reviews, as always, they are immensely appreciated. I know the last chapter wasn't exactly everyone's favorite, sorry about that brief detour into Narcissa-land. I really enjoyed writing it but I know why we're all here so I promise no more extraneous messing about :) This chapter brings us back to Severus and Hermione, so I hope this one is enjoyed a bit more. I'm not gonna lie, it's long. Narratively-speaking, it's almost two chapters in one. As usual, I wanted to fit a lot in, so my apologies for the length. Thank you all, sincerely, for reading & take care :) **

_And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good._

 _-John Steinbeck, East of Eden_

* * *

Severus Snape had never been an idle wizard.

Save for the exception of Lily, Severus grew up a lonely child and had from a very young age always preferred to stay busy and use his time wisely rather than allow the painful sting of rejection and solitude to cloud his thoughts for long.

He had spent a lifetime routinely going above and beyond what was asked of him and it gave him a tremendous sense of pride to defy other's expectations, to be the very best at everything. To be, if not beloved or wanted, at least exceptional or amazing, in some small way.

A top student, a brilliant potions master, a dedicated spy, he didn't mind hard work, he enjoyed it in fact, because it allowed him to demonstrate his many talents, his considerable intellect and his dedication.

And even if no one else had noticed his hard work, which was frequently the case, the quality of his work mattered to him, and it showed when it came to the results. He strived for perfection and he usually achieved it.

Yes, indeed, Severus Snape loved a challenge.

But had he known just how much grueling work and physical exhaustion it would take in order to fully recuperate and heal his broken body, he may well have refused Miss Granger her ardent wish.

As it was, he was only a week into his recovery and Poppy was gleefully grinding his weak body and nonexistent energy into the ground. This morning had already involved a myriad of healing potions, a slow, slogging walk up and down the corridor outside the infirmary with the aid of a cane and a variety of strenuous exercises which left him more sore and exhausted than when they had begun at half past six that morning.

It was nearing a full two hours of exercise when he silently wondered when the sadistic witch standing above him disapprovingly would ever let up on him. He was currently face down on the stone floor in the infirmary, finishing what would hopefully be his last round of push-ups. As Poppy happily called out the count, he focused his mind on her voice to distract himself from the burning pain in his arms and the cramping in his left calf.

"Four more, Severus, really give it all you've got!" Poppy barked in an commanding voice.

He pushed out a hard breath and pressed his hands even harder against the floor as he rose into a shaky press.

"Watch your form, keep your arms straight! You're starting to wobble," she clucked like an angry hen.

As sweat poured down his face and covered the floor beneath him, he felt his temper rise at her bossy tone.

"Damnit woman, I nearly died not one month ago!," he snapped angrily. "I should be taking my ease, not doing calisthenics!", he hissed as his arms began to visibly quake.

As Severus laid his head down to rest his aching, heaving body Poppy merely swatted his back to capture his waning attention.

"I'd say one month is more than enough rest for you. Up you get!", she chirped.

"Poppy, please...I need...a rest," he begged from the floor, his body heaving with each word he uttered.

"What you need is physical activity, and plenty of it, if you're ever going to fully regain feeling on your right side," she said authoritatively.

"Oh, I'll give you physical activity, you old bat," he hissed under his breath as he locked his legs to attempt yet another painful push-up.

"What was that, Severus? I couldn't hear you over that loud grousing," Poppy offered with arms crossed and lips pursed.

"I can't do anymore! Do you hear me!?" He finally snapped, his arms and legs shaking with a fiery pain.

Crouching down on her hands and knees so she could catch his gaze, her face softened as did her words.

"Severus, you promised her," Poppy quietly reminded him.

 _Damn women and their guilt trips,_ he thought sourly, but didn't offer a rebuttal. After all, Poppy was right.

"Three more now. C'mon, give it your all," Poppy said, her voice a touch warmer and gentler.

Severus gritted his teeth, dug deep and rose onto his arms and feet once more. He just managed to pull off his three remaining push-ups before finally, thankfully collapsing onto the floor. The cold stone felt positively sublime against his flushed cheeks, even if his lower half felt like it had been run over repeatedly by the Knight Bus.

"That's my boy, well done!", Poppy crowed happily, rising to her feet.

"Here, have some water and I'll fetch your next round of potions," Poppy offered as she set a tall glass of ice cold water before him, as he sprawled flat on his stomach, not caring one iota how silly and graceless he looked.

His eyes closed as he relished the powerful thundering of his racing heart in his eardrums, a deep sense of pride and satisfaction emanating through his tortured body.

His body did hurt, quite alot actually even with the aid of the analgesic potions but that pain was actually a good sign, one he relished and appreciated. That he could even have full feeling in his extremities was a vast improvement. He could now stand on his own, mostly unassisted, lift both arms above his head and walk longer distances with the aid of a cane. All this activity would've been impossible just one short week ago, but the healing potions coupled with the rigorous physical therapy schedule had the potions master healing far more quickly than he had imagined possible.

He reached for the glass before him and managed to drain the water in a single gulp without even sitting up. Setting it down, he gingerly stretched and flexed his fingers and felt his magical energy hum through his digits with each beat of his heart, ready and waiting to be put to good use and that alone pleased him immensely.

His magical reserve was quickly returning, not quite up to his usual full-strength and nowhere near the incredible amount he experienced when he had rescued Miss Granger, but he could now at least conjure and cast most spells. He had spent the previous morning testing out various incantations and although he was capable of harnessing his magic once more, he soon realized he quickly tired and felt drained from the more complicated spells, thus it seemed wise to stick to simpler forms of magic for the time being.

He still could not fully recall the events on the night of his near-death, and that which he could recall still felt hazy and dream-like as if the memories themselves were wrapped in thick toffee and impossible to fully extract. But he knew severe trauma could effect the body and mind and he chose to not worry for the time being about his faulty memory. The memories would return at some point, he was certain.

The only parts of him not showing substantive improvement were his spirit and heart. They unfortunately couldn't be fixed with potions and deep knee bends. They were entirely different creatures, ones he had never been very adept at controlling and neither of them were fully cooperating with the rehabilitation effort.

He still felt conflicted, even angry at moments, for things were still hard. Although the wizarding world and the faculty had welcomed him and accepted his presence as a guest at the castle, that certainly didn't mean he felt deserving or worthy of the second chance. This wasn't the rosy picture Lily had blithely painted for him, full of joy and personal fulfillment. But still, he had made a promise to stay and be of use and he would be sure to fulfill it.

Seeing the castle restored to its former glory also gave him some sense of comfort that maybe Lily had been right, at least in part. Even if no happiness awaited him, which surely it wouldn't, at least he had an occupation, a reason to help others and that sense of duty gave him some faith that he was indeed here for a reason, here to do some good if not actually receive any.

He was not fully healed, he still had a ways to go, but he was steadily heading in that direction and it secretly, surprisingly pleased him, although he'd never let Poppy know that.

To be whole once more, if only in body, to be rid of the pain and feebleness, was something he was greatly looking forward to.

As his heart gradually slowed and he could breathe normally once more, the infirmary doors swung open and the silence was replaced by the chipper chatter of Minerva, Filius and Miss Granger.

Normally, the sight of a prone man on the infirmary floor would've caused a good bit of surprise to anyone, but the trio, rather used to seeing Severus panting breathless on the floor by now, merely continued their conversation unimpeded.

"Good morning, Severus," said Minerva, as the trio came to stand right before the potions master. "I see Poppy has been keeping you busy," Minerva noted with an approving nod.

"Indeed," groused Severus, as he carefully and slowly pulled his torso off the ground and settled into a seated position. "Far too busy if you ask me," he complained loudly.

"Oh, quit your bellyaching, Severus, or I'll give you something to complain about," snapped Poppy from within her office.

"I'd watch yourself there, Severus. I wouldn't want to land on her bad side," commented Filius with a warm smile.

Severus smiled in return as he tried to feign some camaraderie with his former coworker, but in truth, it was hard.

All of the remaining faculty had made it a point to visit the infirmary over the past week to see the former headmaster who had until recently been thought a heartless traitor.

Pomona brought him a fragrant night-blooming jasmine in a small copper pot, one she had grafted from the tree that had grown and wound itself through the Hufflepuff common room for over a century.

Irma came laden with a year's worth of back issues copies of _Potions Monthly,_ the very issues she had always ordered for him while he was in residence.

Filius brought various word puzzles and pieces of muggle literature, "to help keep the mind sharp", in his words. He also brought several pairs of black slacks and white button-down shirts, which Severus gratefully accepted and wore daily, for it allowed him to abandon the hideous, white infirmary pajamas that Poppy offered him.

Aurora brought a newly knitted emerald green throw to cover his hospital bed. Sybil brought fresh chamomile tea leaves and Hagrid brought rock-hard tea cakes that he baked himself.

Even the many house elves delivered far too many sweet rolls and warm socks, they had in fact piled up on his bedside table until he had magically vanished them.

His most interesting visitor by far had been Rolanda Hooch. The stern, no-nonsense flight instructor merely swept into the infirmary one evening, strode to Severus' bed and wordlessly deposited a bottle of Ogden's finest aged firewhiskey atop his bedside table with a thud. Silently eyeing him critically for a moment, her crystal blue eyes swept across his broken body and when her eyes met his again, she only offered a single nod, seemingly content with the knowledge that Severus Snape was indeed decent and ultimately alright in her book. She turned and left the infirmary without so much as a single glance back.

They all visited, every single faculty member still employed there, every house elf, all bearing various gifts, genuine thanks and sincerest apologies about doubting him.

But these visits had been predictably awkward and short, with Severus still feeling uncomfortable and uncertain as to the intricacies of everyday chitchat which left the visiting party grasping at straws for conversation.

Each well-meaning guest looked visibly relieved to be dismissed by a nosy Madam Pomfrey or by Severus himself, both citing the handy excuse that the patient still needed his rest.

Severus appreciated it all, the gestures, the kind words, truly he did. But they also served to make him acutely aware of just how much of an outsider he was, had in fact, always been. Although he had worked alongside these people for twenty years, he didn't know them and they didn't know him, hell he barely knew himself after a lifetime of subterfuge. And this chasm made for a difficult barrier to overcome.

Most visited once and left him in peace, it was easiest for everyone involved.

Of course, Minerva came every day for her medicinal potions and more to see Poppy than himself. Both Remus and Sirius had visited daily but only briefly, as they were quite busy working around the castle each day. Severus' days were mostly spent in solitude, either exercising or resting atop his lumpy bed in the infirmary, with only his thoughts to keep him company.

But Filius had been by four times, far more than any other faculty member. It was clear that the diminutive wizard was trying his best to try for a fresh-start with the former potions master and Severus was trying his hardest to match that effort.

Severus returned Filius' polite smile as the charms professor, and newly appointed deputy to the headmistress, helped Minerva walk to an adjoining bed. The pair were busy discussing the board of trustees meeting they were leaving to attend shortly, one that neither seemed to be in a rush to depart for.

As Severus carefully stretched out a painful kink in his right leg, he noticed a quiet figure and a familiar pair of dirty red trainers standing before him. He looked up to see the smiling face of Miss Granger.

"Good morning, Professor," she offered warmly as she crouched down to her knees to be a bit more eye-level with the seated man.

"And to you, Miss Granger," he offered politely.

The awkwardness that Severus felt positive would follow their rather intimate encounter the previous week in her common room had thankfully been avoided. Miss Granger seemed content to carry on as if he hadn't held her half-naked body against his own nor seen her dripping wet in only a towel, so if she could push it from her mind, then so could he.

Or at least that's what he told himself, but as night fell each evening he was greeted by dreams of soft, silky skin, of rich, red lips, sweet, warm breath upon his neck, a firm body holding him tight. But these absurd and down-right lecherous thoughts were something he wisely chose to keep to himself. He treated her with polite courtesy and she returned it in kind. If she noticed him eyeing her any differently she didn't show it.

Besides which, she seemed far too busy being the hero of Hogwarts to dwell on the rather intimate moment they had shared.

With Minerva still healing and Filius still learning the ins and outs of his new administrative role, Hermione had seamlessly stepped into the role of chief organizer of the castle reconstruction. Each day, she doled out work to all, helped organized the house elves' work schedules and worked tirelessly from sun up till sundown.

And yet for how busy the young woman was, she set aside time each day to visit Severus and since their talk a week ago, the pair had fallen into a predictable routine, one of the strangest of Severus' entire life.

Each morning, Hermione would arrive at the infirmary, not long after the sun had risen, dressed in frayed clothing, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, her face fresh and pale. She would first check-in on her Professor's progress, always making a beeline for his side, whether he be resting in bed or being tortured by Poppy with various exercises. She would stay for an hour, helping him with his physical therapy and his morning round of potions and then disappear for the remainder of the day to let Severus rest and recuperate, which was vastly helping to improve his strength and clarity.

But each night, as the sun set and the night sky turned to soft shades of amber and burnt orange, Hermione would return once more. Her face flushed and often sunburnt, her hair dirty and coming loose from its haphazard nest but she was always smiling and seemingly happy to be so filthy and exhausted.

As Madam Pomfrey would leave to join Minerva and the others in the kitchen for supper, Hermione would summon dinner for the two of them from an eagerly obliging house elf and sit with him, talking with him late into night, the moonlight casting soft, pale light across the quiet room before she would take her leave.

That first night she offered to sit and share dinner with him, he balked at the absurd notion and tried to dismiss her.

"Miss Granger, surely after the day you've put in, you'd much prefer more lively company than myself," he said with a scowl.

She only smiled at this and sat down at the small square table she had transfiured before the crackling hearth, weighed down with a veritable feast.

"I actually have a few potion research questions I'd love to pick your brain about. And besides that, I'm famished, so why not kill two birds with one stone. That is, if you don't mind?", she asked brightly, looking hopeful.

He had not had much of an appetite since awakening from his coma but seeing the young woman, who had always been petite, now look so slight and thin, he decided that joining her in a meal would at least guarantee that she would eat and gain back some much needed weight. And so the great, stubborn Severus Snape relented.

With a heavy sigh, he slowly hobbled toward the small table, a slight scowl on his face.

"Very well, Miss Granger. Ask away," he said, as he helped himself to roast chicken and buttered carrots.

And so it began, dinner each night in the infirmary, set before the fire as question after question sprung from her endless mind.

"How was Veritaserum originally patented?"

"Why was Gooseweed banned as an ingredient in the 1200's?"

"Have you researched the anti-inflammatory properties of dragon blood?"

And on and on it went. Each night new topics and queries spilling from her lips, her face lit up with eager ideas and hypotheses.

Although he never could've imagined this rather bizarre nightly scenario, he was quickly growing used to her company and maybe even enjoying the intellectual stimulation, which he had had precious little of over the last year.

Of all those who visited him, she was honestly the only one who pressed him for any kind of real conversation, the only one who stayed longer than a handful of minutes. And he found the gesture oddly touching.

Brewing procedures, research methodology, potion patents, the history of potion creation, she would pick his brain about all sorts of topics, her ever-present thirst for knowledge an amazing thing to witness and for once he didn't discourage it.

Although outwardly he seemed put-out by her company, sighing and feigning mild irritation at her thorough questions, he never once snapped at her, ridiculed her thinking or belittled her. And strangely enough, he never once asked her to leave.

Poppy, in fact, couldn't help but notice that Severus had begun to watch the door a bit more intently as sunset approached each night.

The unlikely pair were an oddity to be sure but they both seemed to benefit in some way from the other's company, with Hermione already gaining back a few pounds just that week and Severus, showing an unparalleled level of patience and goodwill to all who graced his path. And thus no one batted an eye about their new found friendship.

Seeing her now, crouched before him, he felt only a sudden, peculiar joy at having her here. Such an odd thing to equate with the young girl, but he didn't pause to examine the notion. His rear end was quickly becoming sore from sitting on the stone floor and he began to shift a bit and push himself upwards.

She reached forward immediately and asked, "May I help you up, sir?"

Her delicate hands were already grabbing onto his sides to help but he politely declined, shrinking from her soft hands.

"Thank you, Miss Granger, but that won't be necessary," he demurred.

"But please, I'd like to help," she offered earnestly, still poised to help him.

"No, I need to do this on my own," he relied gently but firmly, his coal black eyes holding her soft brown ones with intensity and resolve.

"Of course, Professor," she said with a nod, standing up and stepping back several feet to allow him room to move.

Heaving himself carefully onto his knees, he went to stand with a groan. As he rose to his full height, however, he felt his head suddenly swim with vertigo and nearly lost his balance, tipping heavily onto his weak right side. But Hermione had her hands upon him before he could fall or even before he could register a protest.

Her small warm hands clutching him tight, her arms wrapped snug around his back, he let out a small breath and stood still as he allowed her to simply hold him.

Even now, after weeks of her helping him, he still could not believe that this young, pure, perfect woman would deign to touch him, clutch him as if he weren't an unworthy monster. Holding his hand as he walked, changing his bandages, working cramps out of his sore legs, she did it all and what was stranger yet, she didn't seem to mind it.

It was the ease and intimacy she displayed with him that truly baffled him. And yet, as much as it puzzled him, he also selfishly enjoyed it. Most people found him rather off-putting and precious few people actually touched him, he found the warmth of her hands on his pale, cold skin to feel positively electric. Although he hated himself for thinking it, in truth, she could've left her hands there forever and he wouldn't have minded it one bit.

"Standing up is still a bit hard," he softly admitted, finally looking down into her warm, chocolate eyes, looking suddenly a bit embarrassed at much he was enjoying being held.

"Yes, that's understandable. But sometimes we simply need a hand, even if it's the last thing we want," she noted with a smile.

As he felt his head clear and his equalibrium return, he gave a nod and said, "I believe I can try again."

Hermione reluctantly pulled her hands away and stepped aside as he slowly made the return walk to his bed, with Hermione not far behind. Sitting down upon it heavily, Poppy appeared then, a tray full of various potions and vials in her hands.

She stopped before Severus and handed him two vials, one a putrid green and the other an earthy, muddy brown.

"One for muscle conditioning and one for-" Poppy began.

"Organ stregthening, yes, I know, Poppy," Severus offered dryly. "I brewed all of these for you at one time, lest you forget."

Poppy only offered a rather testy expression at this and strode to interrupt Minerva and Filius, who both looked tense as they spoke off to the side.

"Minerva, your morning round," said Poppy with a smile as she set down six potions of various hues.

Severus drained the foul-tasting potions in rapid order, suddenly wishing he had had the forethought to save some of the water Poppy had brought him earlier.

As if reading his thoughts, Hermione, still by his side, summoned his empty glass and refilled with the aid of a nicely cast _Aguamente_. She offered it with a wordless smile and he drank it gratefully. The water was cold and tasted sweet and soothing as the harsh, acrid taste of bison bile and squid blood washed from his mouth.

"Slughorn really could use less salamander blood in this one. It overpowers the effectivness of the lacewing, beside which, it tastes wretched," Severus said to Poppy as she returned once more to fetch the now-empty vials.

"Horace left after the battle," Poppy said. "We were well stocked up on potions but with all the injuries, we must've exhausted his supply within three days of the battle. So the talented Miss Granger has been brewing for us in his and your absence," Poppy said pointedly, giving the young woman a proud smile.

"You've been brewing my potions?", he asked disbelievingly.

"Yes, sir," Hermione answered with a nod, looking somewhat embarrassed and nervous at this admission, unsure of what her potions master might think of her most recent brews.

"All of the potions I've been taking?"

"Yes."

He sighed but made no move to yell.

"Well, better you than Longbottom I suppose," he finally answered with a smirk, secretly impressed with the quality and effectiveness of the potions.

Hermione smiled a triumphant smile and breathed an audible sigh.

"I'll take that as high praise, sir. And I'll be sure to watch the salamander blood in the next batch," Hermione said with a smirk although she knew the amount was perfectly correct.

"I'll take those, Severus," Poppy said as she took the now empty vials.

"So, how's our patient doing this morning, Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione asked with a warm smile, her ever-present clip-board tucked firmly beneath in her arm.

"Recalcitrant as ever but cooperating nonetheless," Poppy pursed, but a small smile played at her lips as she turned and swept from his bedside to check on Minerva.

"And how are you feeling this morning, sir?", she asked softly.

"Smothered," he softly answered.

This elicited a bubbling, soft chuckle from the young lady before him. The lovely sound echoed across the room. The sunlight played with the golden strands in her hair as she bent her head slightly to stifle her sudden giggle. Her cheeks flushed slightly and her lips turned up into a rare, beautiful thing, a genuine smile. Severus watched her, transfixed by the display, but for reasons he himself could not fully understand.

"Yes, I'm sure staying here has been a bit of a challenge," she said quietly. "I stayed here a solid month in my second year but I was thankfully unconscious during the majority of that time."

"Lucky you," he drawled.

"Hmm, indeed," she replied with mirth. "I can't imagine being in her clutches for so long and being fully awake for it," she whispered conspiratorially.

She pulled a stool forward so she could take a seat before him.

"Well, although you may not being feeling tip-top just yet, you are looking better this morning, sir," she said with a bit more formality in her voice. "Yes, you have a bit more color in your cheeks and your right side seems to be bearing more weight."

He noticed, not for the first time that week, her haggard appearance and couldn't stop himself before commenting upon it.

"And if you don't mind me saying, you're looking positively ragged, Miss Granger. Does Minerva work you so hard that you can spare no time to bathe properly?"

Her milky cheeks reddened not only from the dig at her appearance but also from the memory of her last shower one week ago that Professor Snape had the unfortunate luck of witnessing her take.

He took in the sight of her flushed cheeks and knew he had unwittingly insulted her appearance and tried to quickly backtrack.

"My apologies, Miss Granger. I didn't mean to imply... that is to say...I simply meant that it worries me to see you working so hard for everyone else at the expense of not taking care of yourself," he said with a contrite expression.

She smiled slightly at the warmth in his smooth voice.

"Pardon my appearance, sir. But my bathroom is still broken and I've been busy these past few days, I just haven't had the time to properly take care of myself, as you've noted."

"You're a capable witch, Miss Granger, why have you not fixed your bath?", he questioned her a bit sharply.

"Well, my bathtub seems a rather trivial thing to fix at the moment," she offered honestly.

"Typical Gryffindor, selfless to a fault," he noted with an eyeroll and a sad shake of his head. "See to it that you fix it. If you plan on burning the candle at both ends, then you must take care of yourself as well," he chastised her, but his tone was gentle, laced with concern rather than scorn.

"I will, sir. I..will," she promised, secretly pleased at the concern he seemed to show for her.

Minerva and Filius rose from their seats and began to walk toward the floo just then.

"Well, then, we should get going to our meeting. Wouldn't want to keep the board waiting," Minerva called out with a sigh, looking exhausted and weary already.

"Hermione," she called, "they should be arriving shortly at the front gates."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be there to greet them," Hermione replied.

"Greet whom?" Severus asked.

"Narcissa and Draco Malfoy," Minerva responded before Hermione could answer.

"Narcissa and Draco are coming here?", he asked looking genuinely surprised.

"Yes, I was shocked to hear it myself," Hermione replied. "It was apparently arranged by Harry and graciously approved by the headmistress," she said with a kind nod towards Minerva. "They will be staying with us for the time being and helping with the renovations."

Severus could only imagine the dire straits Narcissa must have been in to deign to accept an invitation to stay at the castle, but he wisely chose to keep these thoughts to himself.

"Minerva, I'm still not sure how the board members will feel about having known Death Eaters staying in the castle," piped up Filius, looking more than a bit wary and uncertain.

"I've been in residence for quite sometime, and I never seemed to bother them," Severus pointed out.

"Severus, you know I think highly of you. I always have. Your sacrifice and service are unparalleled. You really can't compare their behavior to your own. Lucius Malfoy never reformed and his wife and son were just as guilty as him, if you ask me," Filius offered with arms crossed tight, clearly upset with the headmistress' decision.

"They were found innocent of all changes, Filius, and last time I checked," Minerva replied, "we and our board members respected the Wizengamot. Besides that, they are Hogwarts family and are in need at the moment. As are we, lest you forget. They need shelter and we need able bodies. So unless you'd like to be the one to throw them out, I suggest you keep these reservations within this room," Minerva said sternly.

Filius pursed his lips in obvious displeasure but didn't offer any objection. He reluctantly gave a terse nod.

"Well, then, Hermione, we'll be off, dear. We'll likely be at the Ministry all day with the board. You'll floo if you need anything?" Minerva asked as Filius walked her slowly to the floo.

"Yes, ma'am, I will. Good luck with the board," Hermione offered with an encouraging smile, as the headmistress and her new deputy stepped into the hearth.

"Thank you, my dear. I do believe we'll need it," Minerva offered with a tense frown.

"Severus," Minerva called before departing. "If you feel up to the walk, you could accompany Hermione. The more the merrier," Minerva offered with a sly Cheshire Cat grin and a slight twinkle in her hazel eyes that was not lost on the young Gryffindor as she and Filius called out the 'Ministry of Magic', and disappeared in a green whoosh of ash and smoke.

While she welcomed the company, Hermione turned to see that a look of concern and hesitation passed across her professor's face.

"Of course, you don't have to accompany me, Professor. I know you're acquaintances with the Malfoys and I thought your presence might be an added welcome to them, but it is of course not necessary. I'm more than happy to welcome them on my own, sir," she said hurriedly.

"My apologies for my reluctance. It's just that...given the fact that I was a covert spy for twenty years and lied to their faces on many occasions, I'm not sure how kindly they'll take to seeing me," he offered honestly, looking unsure of himself.

Hermione gave a nod of understanding.

"I don't pretend to know how they might feel but they did testify on your behalf and given what she said about you at your trial, I'd wager she feels indebted to you. I don't think you need worry about any animosity."

He still looked conflicted when Hermione smiled and added, "It's either come with me or enjoy more of Madam Pomfrey's lovely company," Hermione remarked with a quirked, defiant eyebrow that rivaled his own.

"Severus, are you feeling rested now?" Poppy called out from within her office. "How about we move onto some wind sprints?"

"Well, when you put it that way, it would be my pleasure to accompany you, Miss Granger," Severus said as he quickly hustled his tired body out of his bed and through the infirmary doors.

With the aid of the cane, the pair set off to make the slow walk across the castle to the front hall. This was the furthest Severus had walked and was struck by the sheer destruction that lay in each crumbled hall and room they passed.

"It looks worse than it is," Hermione offered softly, with a small, hopeful smile. But Severus could see the hurt in her eyes, feel the weight of the world resting atop her shoulders.

"Nothing that can not be fixed, Miss Granger," he offered confidently.

She smiled at this as they fell into a comfortable stride.

"Well, things are progressing nicely, despite evidence to the contrary. We've made a lot of headway this week in terms of clearing away debris. Harry, Sirius and Remus have all been here helping each day and we should be able to start reconstruction soon. Things are moving in a good direction. I still think a September opening is possible," she said brightly.

"You actually think this school can be set to right in three month's time?", he asked with his famous quirked eyebrow.

She wavered slightly under that stern glaze but remembered that this man was no longer her superior, but rather quickly becoming her friend, and chose to hold her ground.

"It'll be hard, no doubt about it, but I do think we'll be able to accomplish it," she said with a firm, resolute nod.

"Is that so?", he asked, his smooth voice redolent with disbelief.

Pointing to her clipboard, he said, "That is the master reconstruction list, is it not?"

She nodded.

"May I see it?"

She handed it over but not without a good bit of worry.

He stopped his gate as he began scanning the thick list. Item after item, page after page, it was endless. As his eyes finally came it a rest, twelve pages in, he let out a deep chuckle.

"And what may I ask is so humorous?", she asked sharply, arms crossed in annoyance.

Handing the list back, they began to walk once more and he eyed her a bit incredulously.

"You sincerely think that every wall, every stone, every school desk, every lock, every bed, every inch of this castle can be fixed in twelve weeks-", he started to say and then realized it was already well into the first week of June.

"No, I'm sorry, eleven weeks?", he asked disbelieving. "I've only seen a small fraction of the damage and a year's time seems a more accurate time table, Miss Granger."

"Well, we'll just see about that sir," she said, ever confident.

"Optimistic as ever. Very well, work yourself to the bone," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "The more you accomplish the less work there will be for me when Poppy finally clears me to work," he said with a warm smirk.

"Oh, not to worry, Professor. I'll be sure to save you plenty of work for when the time comes."

"How kind of you," he drawled, his voice smooth and rich as usual but with that soft warmth effused throughout, the one that seemed to lace their conversations as of late. At least, Hermione thought so.

She smiled again, a soft, sweet smile that was matched with a slight blush to her pale cheeks.

 _She looks lovely when she laughs, when she smiles. It suits her,_ he suddenly thought.

He failed to catch himself before that dangerous thought slipped through his mind. He suddenly realized he was actually admiring her.

Hermione Granger... insufferable, bloody know-it-all and the perfect embodiment of all-things Gryffindor! He was taking pleasure from just being near her. And to top it all off, he was bantering with the girl!

Severus Snape never bantered!

And with a former student no less!

What in the bloody name of sweet Circe was wrong with him?

As they walked through corridors and down the ever-winding steps, his mind whirled with confusion at his bizarre thoughts and behavior.

Perhaps he should have Poppy run a diagnostic spell for a possible concussion. Maybe all the exercise was causing his brain to swell?

If he had accidentally imbibed fibble root with juniper juice in one of the many potions he had taken this week, that could potentially cause temporary changes in personality. Maybe that was cause of these ludicrous thoughts.

Maybe these strange thoughts and feelings were the aftermath of Nagini's poison, it's lasting effects impacting his brain far more severely than he had initially realized.

Or maybe, he briefly entertained the slightly terrifying thought that maybe...just maybe he actually _enjoyed_ the impertinent, young chit.

No...that certainly could not be the case.

'Enjoyment' and 'Hermione Granger' were three words that just did not naturally go together in his mind.

He had always respected her and admired her sharp mind from the first day they met.

She was smart, he had known that from the very moment she stepped foot in his classroom, although he had never been able to publicly admit it lest the students in his house begin to question his true allegiances.

Smart, indeed, yes. But it was not until the moment he had learned that she had been the one to crack the potions riddle he had set up to protect the Philosopher's Stone in her first year that he realized just how shockingly, terrifyingly brilliant she truly was.

He remembered being briefed by Dumbledore in his office the morning after Potter recovered the stone and Quirrell had been unceremoniously taken care of.

Twelve years old and Miss Granger was able to quickly deduce a riddle that could've stumped most educated, grown witches.

"My potion riddle was cracked!? By the Granger girl?" Severus had interrupted Dumbledore, mid-speech, looking equally amazed and irritated that the bushy-haired, know-it-all had somehow managed to get around his complex riddle.

Dumbledore smiled benignly at the young potions master, his eyes twinkling clear blue over his half moon spectacles.

"You sound shocked, Severus," he noted with some mirth and amusement. "Is this not the same girl who's praises you were in here singing to me just last week?" Dumbledore asked with a smirk.

"Hardly," drawled Severus, arms crossed tight in annoyance at being bested by a prepubescent girl.

"I simply said she showed a good bit of promise in my class, that's all."

"That's more than you've ever said about any student, even your sacred Slytherins," Dumbledore noted with a smile.

"Yes, well, clearly I was mistaken. She simply had a lucky guess is all. She's obviously just as much of a pain in the arse as Potter and will no doubt be the source of much trouble for me in the years to come," he noted sourly, trying desperately to downplay just how amazed he was by the young Gryffindor and just how much of himself he saw in her.

Dumbledore offered a rare, knowing smirk at this and said simply, "Oh, Severus. You have no idea."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Severus asked sharply.

But Dumbledore never offered an answer and Severus didn't press for one. Something about the way Dumbledore smiled told Severus that this was a subject he preferred to keep close to him, like so many things.

Trouble she had been, no doubt about it. But with that trouble also came a good bit of relief. Safeguarding Potter had been infinitely easier with a genius as his best friend.

Yes, even a stubborn, old mule like Severus Snape could admit that he had always known she was special, unique and brilliant.

But these past few days and weeks he was starting to realize just what exactly those things added up to. She was a blessing, his savior in more ways than one and he was starting to enjoy, even secretly relish, her persistent company, even if he couldn't bring himself to tell her as much.

They were silent the rest of walk, both consumed by the somber sights around them, but it was the kind of comfortable silence shared by friends, not awkward in the least.

As they reached the threshold of the front doors, they stepped out into the fresh air and Severus stopped a moment. He closed his eyes as he drew a deep breath, sweet warm air filling his lungs, the scent of honeysuckle surrounding him, the warm sun upon his cheek.

"Are you alright, sir?" Hermione asked at his sudden halt. "Do you need to sit down?", she asked, resting a hand upon his arm, looking worried.

"No, no, I'm fine. I just haven't had any fresh air in weeks. One can easily forget just how precious things like fresh air and sunshine can be when you don't have them for some time," he noted.

She looked out across the gutted grounds and nodded. This was Hogwarts after all, the most beautiful place in the whole world to her, and would always be beautiful, even in its current state.

After a few silent moments, Hermione said, "I see the Malfoys have arrived."

She nodded to her right and Severus followed her gaze to see the mother and son a hundred yards away, trudging up the steep hill with three sour-looking house elves in tow.

Hermione and Severus waited at the doorway as Narcissa and Draco wended their way up the castle steps.

"Draco, Mrs. Malfoy, welcome," Hermione said with what she hoped was a warm smile.

"The headmistress sends her apologies for not being here to greet you. She's meeting with the board of trustees this morning and has sent Professor Snape and I in her place," Hermione offered apologetically.

"Severus, Miss Granger...it is good of you to welcome us," Narcissa offered with a tight smile. "Please kindly pass along our thanks to the headmistress."

"I certainly will. Please, come in," Hermione motioned through the open door.

Once in the front hall, Hermione said, "We are quite pleased and appreciative to have you stay here and help with the reconstruction."

"Yes...well," Narcissa said eyeing the destroyed, filthy front hall with a look that fell somewhere between pity and disgust. "We're pleased to offer it. I also have our three house elves who are able to work wherever they might be needed," she said, gesturing to the waiting elves, who were currently cowering behind Draco.

"Ah, excellent, yes," Hermione said. "I'm sure their help would be greatly appreciated in the kitchen."

"Winky!" Hermione called out and a moment later the small elf materialized before them.

"Yes, Miss Hermione, you called?" Winky asked, bowing deeply.

Hermione kneeled down to address the elf.

"Winky, these houselves will be staying with us for a while. Kindly take them to the kitchen and acquaint them with the castle," Hermione kindly asked.

Winky nodded and turned to offer a warm, genuine smile to the new elves but was only met with distinct scowls from all three Malfoy elves, Agnes especially.

"No, mistress," uttered Agnes, her raspy voice barely above a whisper. "We serve you, Mistress Malfoy. We will remain by your side," Agnes said, now more bold and enraged as her eyes narrowed at Winky like a combatant.

"Agnes, Bobbin, Gertie, neither Draco nor myself will be in need of anything for the time being. So, go to the kitchens and be useful. Whatever is asked of you, you obey," said Narcissa with a tone that allowed for no argument.

Ears tucked in resignation, the three elves reluctantly joined Winky, who now looked markedly less enthused with the new visitors and the quartet of elves disapparated without another word.

"Well, then, allow me to show you to your quarters," offered Hermione with a forced smile, feeling more tense and on-edge with each passing moment.

The walk to the Slytherin dungeons was tortuously slow and painfully quiet.

Draco fell in-step beside Hermione but the pair had little to say. They may not have hexed eachother recently but that certainly didn't mean they had anything to chitchat about either. A single polite nod and silence seemed to be the best they could manage, but given their past, this was an improvement.

A good ten feet behind them strode Narcissa and Professor Snape, the pair walking slowly and talking in hushed tones.

"Good to see you're healing, Severus," Narcissa said softly, her eyes taking in the considerable devastation they waded through as they traversed deeper and deeper into the castle.

"Thank you, Narcissa. You are looking well these days," he offered.

She offered a mirthless laugh at this, "I look like an absolute wreck, Severus, but that's kind of you to say otherwise."

Severus drew a deep calming breath as he summoned the nerve to say the words caught in his throat.

"Narcissa...I just wanted to say...thank you for testifying on my behalf," he offered with genuine gratitude.

She smiled slightly at these words.

"You've done quite a bit for me these many years, Severus. It was the least I could do."

"I could've done more," he said quietly, holding her gaze.

"We all could have done more," she said consolingly, slipping her arm into the crook of his elbow and patting his hand affectionately.

Hermione caught sight of the move out of the corner of her eye and it bothered her more than she cared to admit.

"I'm sorry I was...less than truthful about my position during the war," Severus added.

"Less than truthful? That's what you call lying to my face for twenty years?", she pointedly asked.

"Narcissa, it was never personal. You know I care for you and your family, I was just-"

"You were protecting yourself, Severus and I would expect nothing less from you," she stated matter-of-factly, waving off his excuses.

"You owe me no apologies," she went on. "We all did what we had to do to survive. I merely wish Lucius wouldn't have put quite so many of our eggs in one basket. He could've learned a thing or two from you," she shrewdly noted.

They arrived at the entrance to the Slytherin common room and with three taps on the gray stone, the dungeon wall slid aside to reveal a shining, green emerald door with a copper snakehead handle.

"Salazar," uttered Hermione and the emerald door opened at once.

"You think that one up all on your own, Granger?" Draco said with a slight smirk.

She pursed her lips at the comment but opted to save her retort.

"You'll be the only ones staying in this section of the castle, so feel free to change the password," Hermione said, more to Mrs. Malfoy than Draco.

"Are you even allowed to go in here? I thought people from other houses were magically warded against entering?" Draco asked Hermione, looking genuinely curious as opposed to cross.

"That's an old wives' tale, actually. Anyone from any house could enter, they were simply never invited," she said, earning her a rare impressed look from Draco.

The group walked through the door and entered the Slytherin common room. Although outwardly, Hermione looked confidant, inwardly she felt anxious stepping into this room. She had been fixing it all week, banishing water and repairing furniture, but to be here with three Slytherins, she suddenly felt all of twelve again and painfully out of place.

The glistening green lanterns that Narcissa had remembered from her own days at school were still there, hanging from the ceilings by serpentine chains and casting the room in a cool, verdant light, one she found instantly comforting rather than off-putting. Through the far windows, the depths of the Black Lake could be seen, the unmistakable shape of a large tentacle gently sweeping by the window. The shiny, black marble floors, the high ceilings, the soft green glow of the lake through the windows, it all felt a bit like coming home and it gave Narcissa a small measure of comfort.

Of course, it wasn't perfect, the rest of the room looked a downright disaster. Leather wing-back chairs lay broken in a heap in one corner, the plush carpets were nowhere to be seen and the serpent marble mantelpiece was cracked clear down the middle. The hearth was empty of light and fire.

"There was a significant crack in several windows down here which led to a good bit of flooding and water damage. Unfortunately, we didn't discover the damage until about a week ago and thus a lot of damage was irrevocable. This room saw the worst of it but we've managed to clear up most of mildew and moisture," Hermione said as she lead them through to the stairwell leading up towards the dormitory.

After several minutes of climbing to the top of the staircase, they reached a heavy oaken door with an engraved plaque reading, _Prefect Room_.

"Since this room suffered the least damage and has the most spacious bedrooms, I thought this might work for the two of you," Hermione said as she pushed against the stubborn wooden door.

The room within had a small living area, complete with a simple black leather sofa and coffee table. Two doors sat on either side of the room. Narcissa immediately crossed to the left and opened the door, to be greeted by her old bedroom, the one she had lived in when she was a prefect. A small, canopied bed, a simple writing desk beneath an enchanted window, a reading chair and small bedside table with an equally small adjoining bathroom.

Narcissa stood in the doorway for a long moment, eyeing her new room, her meager luggage still tucked in her pocket.

"I know this isn't what you are accustomed to, ma'am. But at the moment, this is the best we are able to offer," Hermione offered apologetically.

"This is...adequate, Miss Granger. Thank you," Narcissa said with a tight frown, taking in her surroundings with a good bit of consternation.

"Of course, ma'am. I trust Draco will show you around and help you get reacquainted."

"Yes, we'll manage. When would you like us to begin working?" Narcissa asked turning to face Hermione, her face hard and determined.

The direct question caught Hermione slightly off guard.

"Oh, ma'am, you've only just arrived, there's no rush. Please, take some time to get settled and in a few days time, when you're ready, you can begin," Hermione offered gently not presuming to be the one to put the grand Narcissa Malfoy to work.

"No, Miss Granger, that is not how this arrangement will work," Narcissa said as she pulled off her black stain gloves and tossed them atop her bed and extricated her luggage from her pocket. "We are here to help in exchange for room and board. We aren't a charity case and refuse to be treated as such."

Enlarging her luggage and setting it down on the floor, Narcissa turned to Hermione with an expectant look.

"Ma'am, of course not, we would never view you as-" Hermione began.

"Don't interrupt, Miss Granger, it's unbecoming of a young lady," Narcissa said in a matronly tone. Hermione immediately quieted as Draco smirked behind her.

"Now, you need labor and we need a roof over our heads. Questionable as it may be," Narcissa said with a dubious, sideways glance at her rather meager quarters, "you've provided what we need and we'll provide what you need. So," she said clasping her hands together as if the matter was settled. "Where shall we begin?"

"I'm not sure, I...um, well...," Hermione said, pulling out her clipboard and scanning her long, ever growing to-do list. She really had only been sent to welcome the Malfoys not unceremoniously put them to labor, Hermione felt more than a bit uncomfortable to be put in this spot.

"Surely, there must be some task with which you can entrust even a useless dilitante like myself to accomplish," Narcissa offered with a touch of annoyance at having been made to wait.

"Well, um, Madam Pince could use some assistance in the library. She's still knee-deep in ruined texts, trying to sort through what can be mended with magic and what has to be reordered. An extra set of hands could be a huge help," Hermione offered, still looking unsure.

"Excellent, I'll head there immediately. And where can Draco be of use?" Narcissa asked.

Eying the disgruntled looking Slytherin standing before her, Hermione hesitated a moment before answering.

"Madam Sprout and Neville are out in the green houses today, sorting through debris and attempting to salvage most of the glass enclosure. I'm sure they would appreciate some help," Hermione stated, trying to look confident.

Draco made a face that suggested that he would have sooner eaten a bucket of slugs than help the likes of Longbottom for the day. He made a move to say as much but was silenced with a pointed glance from his mother.

"Yes, Draco would be _pleased_ to help Madam Sprout and the Longbottom boy, isn't that right Draco?", his mother asked.

"Yes, mother. _Quite pleased,"_ answered Draco in a clipped, irritated tone.

With a huff, Draco dropped his small case, shook off his traveling cloak and began to roll up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt. With one last pointed glance at Hermione, as if she herself were the source of all his misery, Draco strode quickly toward the door. He brushed past Hermione and Severus with a scowl firmly in place and disappeared down the hall, back the way he came.

"Alright then," Hermione offered with a faint smile. "We've been holding a morning meeting each day in the front hall, around half past eight to discuss progress and assign jobs for the day. Food is available throughout the day in the kitchen, so please help yourself. Oh, and the last several nights most everyone has been gathering as a small group for dinner in the kitchen and we'd very much like for you and Draco to join us."

"Yes," Narcissa offered tentatively, "perhaps, in a few days time when we are settled, we'll try and attend."

With a last resigned look at her quarters, Narcissa turned and began to walk out of the room. But as she reached the door, she turned back and said, "Thank you, once more, for the welcome Miss Granger," she said politely, genuinely.

Hermione nodded in return, with a small polite smile.

"And Severus," Narcissa said, her voice warming and softening, "thank you for welcoming us. It's always nice to see a friendly face."

This last phrase was said with a real smile. It wasn't polite courtesy, or done out of obligation. It was intimate and again caused Hermione's stomach to clench with unease.

"My pleasure, Narcissa," Severus said with equal warmth.

This caused Narcissa to offer a slow, almost seductive smile. "I look forward to seeing more of you, Severus," she offered as her eyes swept slowly across his body.

And with that, Narcissa swept back down the steps and out of the Slytherin common room, the determined click of her heels echoing out across the empty dungeon.

With the Malfoys taken care, Hermione and Severus took their leave and began the slow walk out of the dungeons.

This walk was quiet too but where their previous shared silence had been easy and comfortable even, the silence that hung between them now felt uneasy and fraught with some kind of unspoken tension.

Severus eyed her tense frown and rigid posture with a good bit of concern.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger? You seem upset," he noted gently.

"Oh, yes, yes, I'm fine," she lied easily with a fake smile, trying to forcefully shake the thoughts of what exactly Narcissa Malfoy would do to welcome the potions master into her quarters once more.

"I believe I was just feeling a bit tense about greeting them. We don't have the best history. So thank you for coming along, sir. I was not looking forward to facing them on my own," she offered.

"My pleasure, Miss Granger," he said smoothly.

As they reached the end of the hallway and Severus began to take a right to head back to the infirmary, Hermione halted and said, "Sir, we're not headed back that way."

He turned on the spot to look at her with confusion.

"And why may I ask not?"

"I have one more stop I'd like to make, if you don't mind following me?", she asked, looking a bit nervous.

His feet were beyond sore, his back ached and he truthfully needed a nap, but he found himself incapable of refusing her request. Something about the way she looked at him, the way she gently asked, something made him follow.

"Very well, Miss Granger, lead the way."

After several twists and turns they found themselves on the other end of the dungeons and approaching his old classroom.

"What are we doing down here?", he asked, looking confused.

"Giving you a bit of a break," she kindly said.

With another eased flick of her wrist, the doors to his old classroom opened and in they proceeded.

As they stood in the ruined remains of his classroom, Severus felt momentarily saddened by the sight. To the far right wall, were all the desks, some cracked in places, others only scraps of wood. Stools were stacked near by and his desk, or what used to be his desk many moons ago, was cleared off, with a deep gouge down the top, splintering the dark, supple wood.

The barren surroundings seemed not to bother the young lady though as she confidently walked across the classroom and approached what used to be the entrance to Severus' private quarters. She pushed against the wooden door and entered as if she had done it a thousand times.

When she realized he had not followed, she turned, still standing in the doorway and beckoned him to follow, a small smile encouraging him.

He felt his chest seize with nerves as he followed, his breathing suddenly rapid. He hadn't set foot in his quarters in well over two years. He had vacated these rooms when Slughorn was hired, moving himself to a smaller set of rooms adjacent to the Slytherin common room. And then after Albus' death and his subsequent appointment to Headmaster, he was reluctantly installed in the largest suite in the castle, high atop the tallest tower, with a majestic, sweeping view of the grounds. In truth, no other room in the castle felt quite right or put him at ease the same way his old quarters had.

And as he entered his old rooms, he stopped at the threshold and marveled at the sight before him.

Unlike the rest of the castle that seemed to be coated in a thick, impenetrable layer of dirt and dust, his quarters looked immaculate, pristine, in fact. His books, the ones that had lined the shelves for twenty years were all neatly organized and freshly dusted. His old cherrywood desk was polished to a high shine and free of clutter. A platter of croissants and tea sat atop the matching coffee table and a warm fire crackled in the old hearth. He walked slowly around the room, hardly believing his eyes. It looked just as it did when he had last stepped into it. A peek into his bedroom revealed his bed was covered with his hunter green quilt, his closet full of his old black teaching robes and his copper-potted jasmine, his gift from Pomona, was perched atop his nightstand.

"I don't understand," he stammered, clearly stunned by it all. "How are all of my belongings here?"

"The headmistress had all of your things packed and sealed after the battle," Hermione gently offered, standing respectfully in his bedroom doorway. "She wasn't sure if-", she stopped suddenly, looking down at her feet.

"She wasn't sure if I would survive," he helpfully replied, looking a bit ashen.

Hermione offered a single nod.

He sat down heavily upon his bed at this, stunned once more by the kindness and generosity of those who should have shunned him, hated him.

Instead they kept offering him their hearts and it both touched and galled him to no end.

"I would have thought Minerva had burnt it all in effigy," he said, trying to dryly dismiss the gesture, but Hermione could tell by the tenor of his deep voice that he was choked with uncharacteristic emotion.

"I think you know her better than that," she said with a warm smile.

"I can't believe there wasn't any damage from the battle," he said, trying to recover some of his composure with a slight change in topic.

"There was actually," Hermione admitted. "A fire had spread through this wing and there was extensive water damage that came from the Slytherin wing. It also needed some structural repair with the stonework but I was able to clear up most of the damage this week."

He looked at her once more with a deepening sense of awe and gratitude.

"You did all of this in a single week?" he asked, walking towards her until he stood right before her, his eyes boring into hers.

A single nod and a small, friendly smile met his query.

"You did this...for me?", he asked, looking truly shocked at the depths and lengths to which this young witch would go to help others.

"Of course, sir. It's the least I can do."

"I'm not sure how Poppy will feel about this. She may not think I'm up to staying on my own just yet," he offered, leaning heavily upon his cane.

"I spoke with Madam Pomfrey last night and she agreed that you can be discharged from the infirmary. As long as you keep up your exercise schedule and take your daily medications, which I imagine Madam Pomfrey will not allow you to forget, you can stay on your own. And I assumed your old quarters would suffice."

After a long moment of tense silence, her nerves grew as she watched his tight frown, his eyes glancing around the room with uncertainty.

"Of course, if this doesn't meet with your approval, I could find other quarters. It just might take some time to find or fix a suitable room," she began but he interrupted her.

"This is perfect, Miss Granger. And...might I add...exceptionally kind of you to go to all this trouble...just for me," he finally said, easing her growing worry with a small smile.

"Yes, well, we couldn't have you living in the infirmary forever," she replied with warmth in her voice.

Glancing once more around the room that had been his for twenty years, he felt relieved to be home once more. And yet he also felt tremendous guilt and remorse bubble up.

"I don't deserve all of this," he said softly, almost to himself.

"I could fight you all day long, sir, on what I think you deserve, but I imagine you would simply balk at my views. Let's agree to disagree on this one," she offered with a wry smile.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," he finally managed, holding her gaze.

"You're welcome, Professor," she said with sigh of relief as she turned and left his bedroom, entering the sitting room again.

Severus closed the bedroom door and followed.

"Well, now that I'm free from Poppy's clutches, where can I be put to work today? What can I do to help you?", he asked, eager to try and be of some use.

"No," Hermione answered firmly, causing Severus to quirk a questioning eyebrow.

"I may not have the fortitude to stand up to Narcissa Malfoy, but with you, I must insist. No work for you today," she said firmly.

"But there is much to be done," he countered.

"Yes, there is. But we'll fix it all in due time," she answered.

"But-", he began once more.

"Please sir, take your ease today. I promise tomorrow I will put you to hard, manual labor and each day after that until the job is finished. But for today, just take care of yourself and do something that would make you happy," she answered as she picked up her clipboard and wand and prepared to leave.

"Happy?", he asked softly, as if the word were completely foreign to him.

"Yes. Happy. As in something you would derive joy from, something that would please you, bring you a sense of peace or fulfillment," she answered.

"I'm not entirely sure how to go about that," he answered truthfully, glancing around his sitting room as if the clue were hidden there.

"I'm sure you can think of something worthwhile. Just...the first thing that pops in your head. The very first thing that would bring your joy, go do that," she suggested.

He paused for a moment, eying her. But he didn't balk or talk back and she took that as a positive sign.

"Join us in the kitchen around six for dinner, if you're feeling up to it. Everyone has been asking after you. I'm sure they'd love to see you up and about."

"I will try, " he offered sincerely.

"Good, well, then...Rest now, Professor," she said.

As she turned to leave, she reached the doorway and paused a moment. Glancing back and said, "Everything is going to be alright."

She offered one last hopeful smile and departed.

As the door to his quarters closed Severus felt once more the overwhelming sense of deja vu wash over him.

He felt the rush of familiarity, like coming home to a sweet fire after a long, cold harsh day. He felt warmth on his lips, hair tickling his cheek. He felt suddenly anxious and yet also perfectly safe.

 _Rest now, Professor. Everything is going to be alright._

She had said those exact words before. When she had saved him in the Shrieking Shack. But why did these simple words cause such a stir within him? Was he simply recalling the rush of relief when she saved him? Or was there something more there? Something he couldn't remember?

He calmed his heartbeat and cleared his mind and focused on those moments and those words.

Warmth.

Comfort.

Peace.

He could feel all the emotions but not the specific memory around them, just the knowledge that Miss Granger had been there and taken care of him.

But nothing more substantial would come. He sighed in frustration. Evidently, his mind was not ready or willing to reveal this full memory just yet.

 _Very well,_ he thought as he reluctantly relented and let the memory and the accompanying feelings recede.

He had others things to accomplish this day, including finding some form of happiness.

Grabbing his wand and hobbling towards the hearth, he suddenly knew just where to find it.

 _~~~~0000~~~~_

As the sun made its slow dip into the darkness, Hermione descended the winding staircase towards the kitchen. As the delicious smell of roast beef wafted down the hall, her belly grumbled in approval and she sped up her stride. It had been a good day and she was feeling good. Her returning appetite a sign of her buoyant mood.

Gingerly climbing though the portrait hole to the kitchen, she was greeted by many smiling faces all seated at a round table tucked just off to the side of the many stoves and ovens. The guest list tonight including Harry, Sirius and Hagrid, all laughing and smiling, Professors Sinatra, Trelawney and Vector, all eagerly tucking into their dinner. And lastly Luna who saw Hermione enter and motioned to take a seat beside her.

"Hermione, how was your day?" Luna asked in her soft, dreamy voice as she picked at a plate of mushy peas.

"Very good, thank you, Luna. I managed to help finish the last of the debris clearing in Ravenclaw tower. I even managed to salvage most of the stone work and I think reconstruction on it can begin tomorrow," Hermione said brightly as she loaded her ate with beef, potatoes, peas and rolls.

"That's wonderful news. You know, you must have encountered a Bedelskim today. They've been known to cause euphoria," Luna said sagely.

Hermione chuckled at her good friend.

"Perhaps," Hermione admitted. "But I think I'm actually just happy the castle is finally shaping up. It feels good to see all our hard work finally resulting in some real, tangible good," Hermione said with a real smile.

As she chatted with Luna and began to eat, her eyes kept looking up at the kitchen portrait hole each time it swung open, secretly hoping to see one person in particular.

Remus arrived and joined the boys, followed by a sour-looking Argus Filch, with Mrs. Norris slinking in beside him.

As dessert trays appeared on the table, Minerva and Filius finally arrived, both looking spent and irritated from their long meeting.

"Welcome back. How did the meeting go?" Hermione asked as Minerva seated herself next to Hermione and she poured her mentor a tall glass of red wine.

"Same old bloated windbags," Minerva answered with a sigh. "They want to know what's taking so long with the renovations, why I'm still using a cane," she said a bit sharply. "And finally, they wanted to know if we'll be ready to open for September."

"Well, we should be able to adhere to that," Hermione said hopefully.

Minerva offered an indulgent smile and patted the young woman's hand.

"I tried to gently point out the vast amount of work still to be done and suggested that a revised opening date of next September should be considered."

"I can't imagine that pleased them," Hermione noted.

Minerva scoffed at this. "No, they want what they want when they want it. Typical," she said a bit wearily. "We have another meeting in one month and they would like to see some 'substantial progress around the castle'...their words," she remarked as she took a long, healthy sip of her wine.

"How did Professor Flitwick take the news?" Hermione asked quietly, eyeing the charms Professor across the table, chatting happily with Professor Trelawney.

Minerva shook her head in exasperation at this.

"Filius is a dear, sweet man but he can honestly be too much of a pushover. He was nodding along, agreeing with every damn thing the board uttered. I'm surprised he didn't offer an August start date in his eagerness to please them," Minerva said a bit testily.

"He's new to this role. It will take some time to learn how he can best serve you and Hogwarts," Hermione said, trying to sound encouraging. But Minerva only looked more dour.

"I fear he just won't make a good deputy," she sadly admitted. "And it's not as if I have any better options. Pomona, Aurora, Sybil...all too sweet and soft-spoken. A deputy needs to be firm, resolute, discerning and above all they need to support the headmaster or mistress in their directives. It would have been nice to have a bit more support today," Minerva admitted.

"It sounds to me like you need a heavy hitter," Hermione noted. "Well, it just so happens, I know of one. He's commanding, loyal, committed, he also taught here for close to twenty years and he's currently unemployed," Hermione said with a sly grin.

Minerva only let out a heavy sigh.

"I know Severus has agreed to stay here until the renovations are complete but he's given no indication that he wants to resume his post as a professor here," she offered, sounding disappointed.

"How do you know until our offer?" Hermione asked.

"Because I did offer it, three days ago. He made it very clear that teaching again, being officially employed here, is not something he is interested in," Minerva answered.

"Oh, I...I did not know that," Hermione added looking crestfallen.

"He's had to work here to maintain his cover for twenty years and the job damn near cost him his life. I do not believe this was ever the life he wanted, and far be it from me to sentence him to more pain," Minerva said kindly.

"I never thought of it that way," Hermione admitted, with a small sheepish smile.

"He has made it clear that he intends to stay until the castle reopens but after that, he wishes to move on. And I don't think I, or anyone else, can change his mind," Minerva offered with an air of resignation.

The portrait swung open just then and Hermione looked up expectantly, but much to her disappointment, in walked Madam Pomfrey.

Poppy said her 'hello's to the several people already seated, gave Minerva a gentle kiss on the cheek and seated herself beside Hermione and the headmistress.

"Sorry I'm late. I just delivered Severus' evening potions," said Poppy apologetically.

"He wont be joining us, then?" Hermione asked.

"Probably not. I believe he mentioned he was going to visit with the Malfoys this evening, make them feel a bit more welcome," Poppy said, noting just how disappointed Hermione suddenly looked at this news. Minerva saw it, too.

"Oh, well, yes, of course," Hermione said, striving for brightness but just falling short as she picked half-heartedly at her spinach salad.

"Don't fret, dearest. Slytherins tend to sick together, it's just their way," Poppy said gently, trying to reassure the young woman.

"Oh, ma'am, it's no business of mine who he chooses to spend his time," Hermione said dismissively, her eyes seemingly focused on her to-do list, her mouth set in a thin line.

Poppy and Minerva shared a secret smile at this.

"He's visiting with the Malfoys out of Slytherin duty. No more, no less," Poppy said with an air of authority.

Hermione nodded, feeling slightly buoyed by this but still, she couldn't shake the painful image of just how cozy and comfortable Narcissa Malfoy had seemed draped upon Professor Snape's arm that morning. The way her eyes lingered on his body, the easy rapport she already had with him. Hermione's insides squirmed at the thought as she pushed away her half-eaten dinner.

"Besides I can't imagine he's going to visit with them long, he was quite tired when I left him just a few minutes ago," Poppy noted as she began filling her plate.

"Why is he so tired? Did he not rest today?" Hermione asked, looking concerned.

"Apparently not," replied Poppy. "He looked filthy and exhausted when I saw him."

"I wonder what he got up to, I didn't see him around the castle at all," Hermione noted, looking perplexed.

"Who knows with that one. He's quite a secretive little weasel, always has been," Poppy said with a smirk as she relished her Yorkshire pudding and poured herself a rather full glass of red wine.

The portrait hole swung open once more and Hermione's eyes immediately fell upon it. But instead of a tall, dark and handsome man, in walked a filthy Professor Sprout, accompanied by a sullen-looking Neville and a disgruntled Draco, both young men also covered in dirt and stone-silent.

As Neville and Professor Sprout took seats at the table, Draco merely strode to the ovens and fixed two dinner plates, piled each of them high with roast beef, vegetables and rolls. He turned and offered a curt, perfunctory nod to the assembled crowd, who had quieted some since the young Slytherin had entered. He then wordlessly walked back through the portrait hole, his hands full of food without a single glance back.

Neville gave a quick kiss to Luna and proceeded to start piling his plate high with food, angrily spooning mashed potatoes onto his plate, his usual smile and easy-going demeanor nowhere in sight.

"Like no time at all has passed," Pomona said softly to Minerva, Poppy and Hermione. "Those two were still at each other's throats," she noted sadly.

"Neville and Draco had a few problems today, then?" Hermione asked in hushed tones.

Pomona only answered with pursed lips and a discrete nod.

"Well," said Minerva, with a heavy sigh, "at least no hexes were thrown."

"No hexes... _yet_ ," Pomona said pointedly. "Hermione," she asked softly, "could you perhaps pair Draco up with someone else tomorrow, dearest? Might be best if those two have a bit of a break."

"Of course, Professor Sprout," Hermione said as she scribbled a note on her clipboard to rework the next day's schedule.

Eying Neville seated next to Luna, his face still like thunder, Hermione scooted her chair a bit closer and offered a warm, encouraging smile.

"Tough day, Neville?", she gently asked.

"Yeah," he said sourly. "That Draco...he's still quite the piece of work," Neville spat, angrily stabbing a rare piece of roast and cutting it with a good bit of force.

"He kept insisting my wand work was subpar and that he could do a better job of it," he said bitterly, his jaw set tight with anger.

"Oh, Neville, you know that isn't true. Draco's just a bit of a difficult personality," Hermione offered, trying to soothe her friend but Neville wouldn't take it to heart.

"Look, it's fine. I know he's trying to help. I'll get over it," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, his eye downcast.

"Well, I know first-hand how hard he can be to deal with. Thank you for working with him today," Hermione offered sincerely, which earned her a half-hearted smile from Neville.

"Did you two manage to make much headway on the greenhouse?" Hermione asked, trying to change tracts.

"Well, we started off promising, a good amount of glass was still magically repairable but honestly we couldn't get much of it back together," Neville admitted sadly. "I don't know what went wrong. The harder we tried to repair it the more it kind of all fell apart. I've never seen anything like it," he admitted, looking truly perplexed by the day's events.

Hermione's brow creased in confusion at this. "Your spells wouldn't hold?"

Neville nodded, looking embarrassed. "The glass kept coming apart. Must've tried a dozen times."

"That does sound strange. I've never heard of spells like this not taking," she admitted, looking genuinely stumped as to why such a simple spell from several talented wizards wouldn't hold.

"Well, maybe Draco's right, maybe my wand-work could use some brushing up," Neville said, rather defeatedly.

"Hush that talk, dearest," said Luna, her voice soothing and kind. "Must be the Windlespurts buzzing about the castle lately, they have a way of zapping your magical energy," said Luna with a sincere, warm smile for Neville.

Neville smiled at his girlfriend, his sour mood finally cracking and subsiding.

"I think you're right, love. That must've been it," Neville said with a sweet grin as he lifted Luna's hand to give it a kiss.

Feeling slightly buoyed, Neville turned to Hermione and said, "I'll try again tomorrow, I think I was just a bit tired today. I'm sure after a good night's sleep, I'll have a good clear head and I'll have it fixed by lunchtime," he said confidently as he dug into his dinner.

As Neville and Luna began to chat softly and catch up after the long day, Hermione returned to her seat to offer them some privacy while she updated her check-list.

She also made a note to stop by the library at some point and try and locate a few books, if they were still in viable condition, on magical energy loss. She knew she was feeling drained and run-down and obviously so were the other inhabitants of the castle, especially if simple spells were becoming harder to accomplish. She would research it, when she had a chance, and was confident she would find a suitable potion or solution to solve the problem.

As the ruckus died down and more and more people departed the kitchen, Sirius finally excused himself from the opposite side of the round table and came to sit down beside Hermione.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to join us for dinner? You know I've been here all week, busting my tail and not a single dinner with a favorite lady. I'm feeling very hurt," Sirius offered dramatically with feigned distress, which only caused Hermione to grin.

"I've been busy, I'll have you know," she said, polishing off the last bit of her apple tart.

"Hmm, busy with Severus, I hear," he said quietly with a knowing look, his eyes sparkling with mischief, his lips quirked into a lovely smirk.

"I don't know what you mean," she blushed, looking away, fiddling with her empty tea cup.

"Sure you do. Poppy tells me everything, you know. You've been sitting with him each night this week, sharing dinner, talking. Sounds nice, sounds cozy," he said with a wink.

"I...I just...I just didn't want him to be alone. He's been through a lot," she offered a bit defensively, shifting nervously in her seat.

"That he has...and so have you," Sirius said softly.

She finally managed to turn and gaze at him, feeling her cheeks redden.

"It's alright you know...to like him," Sirius said quietly, sliding closer to her. "To maybe even... feel something stronger than liking. It's okay, nothing to be ashamed of," he offered, with a kind, understanding smile.

Her cheeks positively burned at this as her lips began to open and close rapidly without actually producing any sound.

"Sirius Black, I do not like-" she softly hissed. "He's...he's...he's a brave hero, he saved me many times over, he's my professor-"

"Last I checked, you're not a student here and he's not your professor. He doesn't work here anymore, remember?", he helpfully piped up.

"Be that as it may, he was my professor for six years and I have a deep, abiding respect for him. Just like all of the professors here," she rationalized, trying to justify her behavior.

He only grinned more widely with each angry, defensive utterance.

"Save your breath, kitten. You saved his life, you nursed him back to health, you sit with him each night. You do, too, like him," he said confidently, plucking a ripe grape tomato off of her salad plate and popping it into his mouth with ease.

"I do not," she said adamantly, fighting to keep her voice low, her eyes wide with worry.

"Do too," he said smoothly, swiping another tomato.

"Do not!" She hissed through clenched teeth.

"Then tell me, love, why do you keep staring at that kitchen door?", he casually asked.

 _Damnit_ , she thought angrily. She had been so careless staring at that damn door all night.

"Hmm? Can't wait to see Madam Pince?", he asked pointedly.

She could've hexed herself for being so blatantly obvious.

"I...I was just-", she tried but failed miserably.

"Yeah, didn't count on me noticing that did you?", he offered with a smirk. "I've been watching you all night and you've been waiting...waiting for him."

She made to disagree but suddenly the kitchen portrait hole swung open and Hermione's eyes jerked towards it, the unmistakable look of hope clear on her face.

But to her dismay, in walked Agnes, looking positively morose, levitating a large sack of potatoes. Hermione knew she had just been caught red-handed.

Sirius smiled a slow, triumphant grin.

"You like Severus Snape," he said softly, with a warm, sweet smile.

She leaned forward in defeat and rested her head in her hands, too tired to try and argue against the obvious. She could feel her whole body slowly blush.

"You going to tease me forever about this, aren't you?", she feebly asked, finally feeling brave enough to look him in the eyes once more.

He chuckled softly and pulled her close to give her a sweet, gentle kiss on her temple.

"Of course, not. You're free to like whomever you choose," he uttered, pulling away with a grin, affectionately tucking one of her curls behind her ear.

"But the thing is...I didn't choose him. You think I'm foolish enough to care for someone who can't possibly return my affections? No...this...this just happened somehow," she sadly admitted, feeling so very foolish.

He nodded, understanding just the type of sweet agony she was speaking of.

"Honestly, love, the heart...it's simply unpredictable. Can't persuade it to be anything but," he said a bit sadly, looking out across the table at his godson who was laughing at something Remus had just said.

"But that's part of the fun, isn't it? Falling in love when you least expect it?", he offered, recovering his usual smile, gently reaching up to take her hand in his own.

She gave a slight nod, with a deep sigh, full of such longing.

"It's complicated... What I feel for him," she admitted, looking down at their clasped hands.

"It usually is, love," he said wisely, smiling wistfully.

"When I see him, how I feel when I'm around him. It's foolish really," she said shaking her head, feeling exposed and silly at admitting her feelings.

"It's never foolish to love someone. Never," he offered adamantly.

"He can never feel about me the way I feel about him."

"You don't know that," Sirius volleyed back.

"Why would he want me?", she asked, looking defeated, as if the matter were a closed case.

"You make it sound as if your love would be a burden. He'd be damn lucky to bear such a thing," Sirius answered sincerely.

"What if...what if never sees me the same way I see him?", she asked, her voice breaking slightly, looking desperate for the answer she couldn't find.

Sirius shook his head in exasperation at the woman before him.

"Love, you worry too much. Get him to open up a bit first, which I think you're already doing a splendid job of and then take it from there. He's a tough nut to crack, just give some time. If it's meant to be...it'll happen. And if not, well then...I'm always available," he said with a wink and rather suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

She laughed at this and gave him a playful push against his chest, "Oh, stop it. I doubt I could snag you either."

"Oh, love you've already got me," he said with a grin as he brought her hand to his lips for a kiss.

He began to stand, but she caught his hand once more and asked, looking worried, "You're not going tell anyone are you?"

"Not a soul," he stated.

"Promise?", she implored.

"On my honor as a gentleman," he said, giving her a courtly bow.

"Well, in that case, I'm doomed," she playfully groused. He only mused her already frazzled hair in response.

"Alright you lot, it's been a pleasure," Sirius called to the remaining company. "I'm off to grab a few hours of sleep before I return to the slavedriver here," Sirius offered with a feigned sigh, gesturing at Hermione with a wink, who only smiled back at the animagus.

"It is getting late. I'll be off too, then," said a smiling Remus who stood and stretched his achy, sore back as he joined Sirius.

As the pair strode toward the far end of the kitchen and stepped into the floo, Sirius offered one last glance at Hermione, a hopeful, surprisingly happy look on his face and then they disappeared.

~~~~0000~~~~

Dinner finished not long after, with all of the remaining occupants more than a bit exhausted and in desperate need of rest.

As Hermione entered the Gryffindor common room, she quickly washed her face in the adjoining bath and trudged up the stairs. She longed for a hot, soothing shower but was far too wretchedly tired to bring all her toiletries back down the stairs. No, the shower would just have to wait until morning.

Opening her bedroom door, she was immediately greeted by the sight of Crookshanks who was angrily meowing and pawing at the door to the broken bathroom that connected to her bedroom. Momentarily confused as to the source of her foul mood, Hermione walked to the bathroom door to find, with no small measure of surprise, a note with familiar, elegant handwriting attached to the bathroom door that was causing her cat so much grief.

Pulling the note from the door, her breath momentarily caught as she realized exactly who had penned it.

 _As a small token of my appreciation,_

 _SS_

 _P.S. Your cat doesn't much care for me. Kindly teach it a few manners._

Still momentarily puzzled by the note and how in the name of Merlin her potions master had managed to slip into her room and past her ferocious cat, Hermione pushed opened the bathroom door and stepped in. She gasped at the sight that greeted her.

Her tub, which had previously been cracked in half was now whole and fixed, gleaming a gentle, soft white, as if it had always been so perfect. The copper pipes leading to it, which were eroded from rust just this morning, now also appeared to have been remedied, the pipes now looked brand-new and shined a high, shiny gloss in the moonlight streaming in through the tall bathroom window. Her mirror over the sink was repaired as well and the sink below it now had a functional faucet and a pair of working knobs which let out both hot and cold water on demand. The white tile beneath her feet was now pristine, no longer covered in dust and debris.

She sat down on the edge of the tub and gently turned the porcelain handle and was amazed when soothing, hot water began to gush easily from the tap, immediately filling the tub.

She smiled to herself and let out a small chuckle. It wasn't often that Hermione Granger could be surprised or amazed, but she suddenly felt both. Of all the things to fix, Professor Snape chose his first day of freedom to fix her bathroom.

Of all the silly things to work on, of all the ways to spend his time. He chose it to be kind. To be kind to her.

It must've taken him the better part of the day to fix all of this, especially given that he was still in recovery. And yet he did, he did it all solely so she could have a measure of comfort.

Crookshanks curled around her feet just then and gave an appreciative purr as Hermione bent down and scooped her up.

"Did we have a visitor today?", she asked her cat, scratching her favorite spot behind her left ear.

Crookshanks pulled away slightly and stared at Hermione for a long moment, seemingly understanding the question.

"It sounds as if you weren't very friendly to him," Hermione gently admonished which caused Crookshanks to jump from her lap, lay down upon the grey bathroom rug and begin to diligently lick her paws, the feline preferring not to answer that question.

Hermione chuckled at her obstinate familiar.

"It's alright, I know you're protective of me. But he's actually decent, he's one of the good ones," Hermione uttered with real joy in her voice. "Should you see him again, be sure to treat him kindly. I...I like him," she said softly, more to herself than her cat.

Crookshanks merely glanced up at Hermione and waltzed back through the doorway, tail high in the air, swishing with a good bit of haughtiness.

As the water reached the midway point, Hermione leaned forward to shut off the faucet and spotted a small dark green, glass bottle perched in the soap dish labeled " _Lavender Rose Essence, for relaxation_ ", in the same small, careful script.

She uncorked the bottle and inhaled deeply, the lovely scent immediately relaxing her. She tipped a few drops into the hot water and stood as the scent flooded her aching, tired body and called like a siren to immerse herself in.

Recorking the bottle and carefully setting it aside, she smiled as she slowly stripped her stained clothes and sunk into the blissfully luscious tub, the hot water enveloping her naked body in a moment of pure, perfect bliss.

An hour later found her finally drying off, donning a fresh set of pajamas and curling up to her cat in her wonderfully soft bed. Fully relaxed and finally, properly clean, she quickly fell into a deep, restful sleep; the kind of sleep where she felt totally at ease, completely free from pain or worry.

The kind of heavy, restorative sleep you could only afford when you were certain, positively certain, that something or someone was there to keep all the darkness at bay, to protect you, to watch over you.

The kind of sleep she had not had in ages.

 **A/N: Okay, so it was long and it contained a lot. Thoughts? Feelings? Loved it? Hated it? Talk amongst yourselves and feel free to let me know what you think of it all so far :) Thanks again for reading & hope you all have a great weekend! **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Alright, first off, my deepest thanks for all of the continued support in the form of the many beautiful reviews. Each and every one is greatly appreciated. That you all keep returning to read and review this work is truly touching, I'm sincerely grateful for each of you.**

 **Finally, special thanks to my good friend,** ** _Marcella Dix,_** **her eloquence and gift as a storyteller is a constant source of inspiration for me, I hope to write just like her when I grow up :)**

 **This one is just as long as the last chapter I posted, again basically two chapters in one. I hope it's a good one :)**

 **Love, hugs and pumpkin pie to all you lovelies :) Happy Sunday and an early Happy Thanksgiving to those of you celebrating :)**

* * *

 _"You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering."_

 _Ernest Hemingway_

"Jelly Slugs," Hermione called out distractedly to the stone gargoyle that stood watch before the stairs to the headmistress' office.

The gargoyle accepted the confectionary password and obligingly moved as the spiral stone steps revealed themselves, allowing Hermione to climb them, her feet carrying her without actually watching where she was going. Her eyes were busy scanning the morning's _Daily Prophet_ that was clutched tight in her hands, her lips pursed in annoyance at the headline.

 _Hogwarts in Trouble? Reopening May be Delayed_

 _Several sources close to the school's Board of Trustees have reported exclusively to the_ Daily Prophet, _that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, founded in 990 AD and most recently the final battleground of the Second Wizarding War, is still mostly in shambles and in need of substantial repair. The damage is reportedly so severe and reconstruction is so behind-schedule that the school may not reopen until September 1999, resulting in a year-long gap in educational opportunities for the magical children of Great Britain._

 _The repairs are being overseen by the current headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, along with a group of committed volunteers including Hogwarts staff, teachers, many former students including war heroes Harry Potter and Hermione Granger as well as the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix._

 _"Well, of course we'd love to see the school reopened sooner rather than later but so far we have not been assured that a September start-date will be feasible," said a board member who requested to remain anonymous._

 _"Help has been offered in the form of financial aid and the hiring of a professional magical contracting company to complete the job, but so far our offers have been rebuffed. McGonagall seems to want to do things her own way," complained another anonymous source close to the school._

 _With most press questions and requests for interviews being ignored by Headmistress McGonagall, the public is left wondering, is Minerva McGonogall still up to the arduous task of running the school? Will her ailing health prevent her from seeing the school reopened? Is the damage to the school so severe it is beyond repair? And most importantly, where will our country's children go for their magical education if Hogwarts never reopens?_

 _Is our beloved Hogwarts truly doomed?_

 _\- Rita Skeeter, Chief Hogwarts Correspondent_

Hermione let out a heavy sigh.

 _That woman shouldn't even be allowed to own a quill,_ she thought sourly as she reached the heavy oaken door at the top of the steps.

Hermione testily folded the paper and shoved it within her clip board and smoothed her hair back before knocking twice. But the move was met with curious silence.

Tentatively pushing the door open, she peered in and called out, "Headmistress? Minerva?"

But the office was clearly empty, not surprising given the fact that Hermione was at least twenty minutes early to the daily, morning meeting. Although usually held in the front hall, today's meeting had been moved to Minerva's office in anticipation of a rather large delivery of stone building pieces and copper pipes, which would be stored in the front hall to be used as needed to replace the ones that could not be magically reassembled.

She knew the others would be filtering in shortly, so Hermione decided to wait.

Walking into the warm, sunlit office felt as welcoming as it ever did. The desk and shelves were now far less cluttered with various instruments and magical knick-knacks, with Professor McGonagall clearly preferring a more organized and paired-down aesthetic than Professor Dumbledore had favored.

Her desk was clean and neatly organized. Atop it sat a quill and ink jar, a blotter, a used tea cup and a silver framed photo of a much-younger Poppy, at least thirty years old, smiling and laughing in the enchanted portrait.

It felt strange to be here alone and have the chance to peruse the room openly, drinking it all in. The bookshelves still bore several hundred dusty tomes, the desk still weighed down with stacks of paperwork and the portraits of the previous headmasters still hung upon the walls.

It somehow felt wholly different and yet curiously the same. She mused that each headmaster or mistress must have brought their own personal flares and touches with them, thus making the room feel entirely different with each new occupant.

Whatever the differences she noticed now, it still felt warm and right. The golden, sunlit hue now suffusing the room made it feel rife with magic and power, it felt like the very center of the magical universe, at least Hermione had always thought so.

The most marked difference now was the addition of the newest portrait upon the cream-colored wall, one who's presence on this particular wall still caused Hermione a pang of grief each time Hermione saw it.

"Ah, Miss Granger, what a pleasure it is to see you, my dear," Professor Dumbledore said kindly from the comfort of his portrait hung front and center above the large, crackling fireplace.

She smiled as she approached the desk, eyeing her old headmaster with a warm smile.

"Professor, sir, it's good to you, as well," she uttered as she rounded the large desk and stood beneath the portrait.

"Minerva has been keeping me up-to-date on all of your hard work. It sounds as if things are progressing smoothly?" Dumbledore inquired brightly.

"Well, damage has been extensive across the castle, with most areas needing substantial reconstruction," she admitted. "But we're mostly finished with clearing away debris and we've even managed to rebuild some smaller sections. I think we're prepared to even start tackling the larger portions including the Great Hall and the Astronomy Tower," she offered brightly, trying hard to banish the nagging feeling that still lingered as a result of the paper tucked beneath her arm.

"Excellent, it sounds as if Minerva has put this arduous task in the right hands," Dumbledore said with an encouraging smile.

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your vote of confidence," she demurred, blushing lightly at the praise.

"Miss Granger, you've always had it," he offered kindly.

"But may I be so bold to ask, how have you been feeling? You're looking a bit peaked," he noted with some concern.

"I'm well, sir. Just feeling a bit rundown. Between the battle, Professor Snape's trial and working here, I'm feeling a bit...exhausted," she admitted with a sigh as she set down her clipboard and wand, leaning gently against the desk, still looking and feeling a bit tired although she had just awoken from a good night's rest.

"Yes, I imagine you are. But your magical energy is still feeling intact and functional?", he asked eyeing her slightly critically over the rim of his spectacles.

"Well, yes, I...I believe so, sir. In truth, I haven't felt in top form, but surely it's due to stress and exhaustion. Why do you ask?", she said, now taking his seemingly innocent questions with a bit more wariness, noting his tone with some concern of her own.

"Mere curiosity, my dear," he said with a smile and dismissive wave of his hand. "I've simply noticed how long Minerva's recovery has been taking, Poppy has seemed spread thin, as well. I was merely wondering if you too had experienced some magical energy loss."

Her brow furrowed at this.

"I know the headmistress has been healing more slowly than expected but she's still making progress and as far as I've seen, Madam Pomfrey has been quite energetic," Hermione noted with clear confusion at the line of questioning.

Dumbledore merely smiled at her and shook his head ever so slightly.

"Don't let Poppy fool you, that's merely the Pepper-Up potion. She's been relying rather heavily upon it lately," he noted with a touch of worry.

"Well, we've all been working too hard, if truth be told. The board is pushing for a September opening and we're trying our best to meet it," she admitted.

"Of course, they can be rather pompous and demanding, as groups of old, privileged, white men tend to be," Dumbledore note with some mirth.

Hermione smiled at this but couldn't shake the feeling of unease this particular line of questioning had stirred within her.

"I had been chalking up our sense of malaise to overwork but now that you ask, Neville mentioned just last night that he was having trouble casting the spell work to fix the glass enclose of the greenhouse. I brushed it off but do you think there might something more to it, sir?" She asked now looking clearly perturbed at the pattern she had so far failed to notice.

"No, Miss Granger, I don't mean to needlessly worry you. I'm sure the culprit is too much work and too little rest. It's most assuredly the cause," he said confidently, straightening up in his leather reading chair, looking comfortable in his golden portrait.

She felt her stomach clench with unease at the way he was smiling, clearly hiding something.

Her brow furrowed at the topic, wishing to try and extract more information. But as she made to open her lips, the office door opened and in walked Professor Snape, his cane in his hand, dressed simply in black slacks and a white button-down. He hobbled slightly but otherwise looked healthy and ready to face the day.

She smiled reflexively at the sight.

"Ah, Severus, good of you to join us," called Dumbledore with a smile.

"Albus, good morning," Snape offered politely, nodding at his old friend and mentor with some affection and familiarity.

"Miss Granger," he offered next, a touch more softly as he slowly made his way into the room and settled himself in one of the wingback chairs before the desk.

Dumbledore noted how the young lady's face brightened as her potions master entered the room, and how her gaze never strayed from him, her mouth pulling into a genuine smile.

"Well then, if you'll both excuse me, several of the old headmasters and I are meeting this morning for a spot of tea," Dumbledore offered congenially.

And before a Hermione could get in another word, off Dumbledore glided through the edge of his frame, dodging through several other portraits before leaving the room entirely.

Hermione felt a twinge of irritation at the headmaster's obvious attempt to dodge her further questions but decided to turn her attention instead to the man seated before her now.

"Good morning, sir," she offered sincerely, as she retrieved her list and wand and settled herself into the seat beside her professor.

"Miss Granger, you're looking well this morning," he said, noting how lustrous and soft her hair looked tied up in its usual bun.

"Yes, I finally had a lovely bath last night in my own rooms," she replied with a coy smile.

"I'm glad to hear it's all finally in working order," he offered slyly.

"Thank you, sir, so very much for fixing my bathroom. I'm truly touched you would spend your time on such a silly matter," she said, her voice soft and full of thanks.

Seated before him, the early sun was just starting to shine through the tall windows and it cast her in the softest of golden light, warming her skin to a rosy hue as her eyes looked at him with pure gratitude, a look that rarely graced his presence from anyone let alone this lovely, accomplished and gracious young lady. He had merely fixed a sink and tub, hardly even worth mentioning in comparison at all that she had done for him and yet she seemed so genuinely pleased and appreciative and it warmed a part of him to see her so happy.

Clearing his throat to cover his own growing sense of pleasure, "Think nothing of it, Miss Granger," he offered with a dismissive wave of his hand.

But as he did so, Hermione noticed several deep scratches along the back of his hand and her brow furrowed in concern.

"Sir, how did you injure your hand?"

"It would seem your familiar does not take kindly to new people," he offered dryly as he lifted his right hand once more to reveal three long, red gouge marks across the pale skin.

"Oh my goodness, she actually scratched you! Oh sir, I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, quickly scooting forward in her chair and clasping his hand to inspect the deep cuts more closely.

Their knees bumped together in the process but Hermione didn't bother to scoot back, her mind too focused on the damage her pet had caused. But Severus had noticed and couldn't help but stare at her legs nestled against his.

Not that she noticed his gaze. Her head bent low with concern, Severus seized at the contact, from both her legs and hands, as Hermione's soft fingertips traced the edge of the wounds, her face set in a tense frown.

"The edges are already inflamed and it looks infected, why didn't you heal this yesterday, sir?", she asked, finally looking up at him, clearly upset.

He froze for but a moment as her big, brown eyes looked questioningly into his. He suddenly became incapable of thought or articulation.

"I...I was too tired by the end of the day to fix it. My magic felt greatly diminished by the time I returned to my rooms," he finally offered. "Besides, it's nothing to worry about. It's merely a scratch," he said dismissively, trying to pull his hand from hers.

But she wouldn't relinquish it, she merely held on even tighter, her warm fingers rubbing along his cool palm, which tickled the sensitive skin and sent shivers up his arm.

"Sir, you're still healing. You can't afford an infection right now," she gently chastised, her lovely pink lips pursed in annoyance.

She sighed and pulled her wand from her back pocket. She finally moved her hands from his and gently placed his hand flat on her knee so as to keep it still. Holding it there, she pointed her wand at the injury with her free hand and then paused, looking up at him questioningly.

"May I, sir?"

His hand forcibly-rested upon her knee, the warmth of her skin radiating through her jeans felt so inexplicably lovely against his cool palm, Severus could barely focus on her words. But after a moment, he realized she was waiting for his permission to perform magic upon him. He wanted to dismiss her concern, but seeing her earnest, imploring gaze, he relented and gave a single, reluctant nod.

With this, Hermione cast a soft " _Curo_ ," and then a " _Clauro_."

The red, inflamed skin immediately returned to a paler shade and then the three lines sealed once more, faint marks left in their place. Her magic flooding his hand, filling him up, felt soothing and oddly right, as if their magical essences matched, even belonged together. He swallowed at the warmth and peace that now suffused his whole body. Not only were the scratches fully healed, but he also felt oddly invigorated yet peaceful and well at ease.

"There, all better," she said with a smile, as her hand clasped his once more and lifted his hand to inspect her wand work. Her thumb slowly traced the faded lines tenderly and carefully, ensuring that the magic had held.

She smiled as she lifted her head and her eyes met his once more. She was so very close; their legs touching, their hands clasped, her face mere inches from his own.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, catching the gentle scent of her shampoo, marveling at the map of pale freckles sprinkled across her button nose, noting the hints of gold and amber that laced her hazelnut-colored eyes.

She was still holding his hand for some reason and he found his heart beating a tad faster as her warm fingers gently held his own. He felt emboldened by her ease, by her smile, her honey-colored eyes and before he could even process his thoughts, he spoke the words that had been plaguing him for days.

"Miss Granger, how is it you are able to touch me so freely without it...bothering you?"

Her brow furrowed with a mixture of confusing and hurt.

"What do you mean by that? Why would it bother me?"

"Because of who I am. All of the horrible things I've done. Not the least of which include how deplorably I've treated you these many years. Certainly I must... _repulse_ you," he said, his voice dripping with self-hatred and disgust as he tried to pull his hand from her grasp, as if he might sully her by mere touch alone.

He went to retreat but she only held on tighter.

"No, sir. You don't repulse me. Far from it," she offered earnestly, her beautiful face so honest and sincere.

A sharp crack of apparition caused the pair to jump as Winky appeared suddenly in the center of the room, carrying a rather large breakfast tray, laden with sweet rolls and buns, and an accompanying teapot for the morning.

The sudden intrusion caused Severus to hastily pull his hand from her gentle grasp and abruptly scoot back into his chair, separating his body from hers as best he could without actually bolting from the chair. He looked rather flushed and guilty although he had done nothing wrong.

Hermione looked flustered too, but quickly recovered her polite smile and schooled her face to hide the blush staining her pale cheeks. Although empty now, her hands still felt warm and tingling from their embrace.

"Is Missy Granger alright?" Winky said looking worried at the flustered woman before her.

"Missy's face is all red," Winky noted with some worry, which did not fail to go unnoticed by both the Gryffindor and the Slytherin.

"Yes, thank you, Winky. I'm fine," Hermione offered softly, smiling gently at the elf.

"Headmistress ordered breakfast for everyone," Winky politely offered in her soft, squeaky voice as she set the heavy tray down atop the long table just beneath the curved bay window overlooking the grounds.

Her task complete, Winky looked distinctly uncomfortable for having obviously disturbed the pair, and quickly departed thru the hearth.

The air hung a bit heavy with unspoken tension, as the pair were alone once more and still seated next to each other.

Seeing his eyes averted from her now, his posture now rigid and his jaw tight, Hermione silently cursed herself for having touched him and let her hands linger upon him longer than was necessary. The contact clearly made him uncomfortable and made her look a fool.

 _He's not used to you touching him. Stop being so damn forward! You're the very last thing he'd ever desire._

Severus, too, was internally chastising himself for his strange thoughts and troublesome feelings.

 _For Merlin's sake! You're a grown man and she was your student up until about five minutes ago... She was just being kind, that meant absolutely nothing to her. Stop making her uncomfortable for her kindness._

Hermione fidgeted in her chair, internally debating what exactly to say.

"I'm sorry, sir. For being forward, I just wanted to help," she finally offered, looking apologetic as she glanced up to see his soot-black eyes gazing at her intently.

"Our past interactions aside, I consider you a...very good friend now. And I suppose I help and.. _touch_ my friends from time to time. But if that makes you uncomfortable, then I can assure you, I will refrain from such actions in the future. I do not want to make you uncomfortable in my presence."

Severus felt a pang of remorse once more for having offended her. Why did he seem to have a habit of doing that? And more importantly, why did he suddenly care?

"It's not that it bothers me," he said with a firm shake of his head that caused to her look up in surprise.

"It doesn't bother me at all," he said softly, holding her gaze. "I suppose I'm simply not used to it. Not to mention that I tend to have trouble accepting help from others for the simple fact that help has, in my experience, usually come with strings attached," he admitted, staring at her with a raw, open look.

Her face fell at this, betraying the sadness such words stirred within her. Not pity but rather genuine sorrow for the man sitting before her who simply had never had much kindness shown to him and as a direct result, viewed others suspiciously.

"You were being polite and I apologize for...questioning you in that manner," he finished, looking away with some embarrassment.

"It's quiet alright, sir. But I hope you know that as a Gryffindor, I'm pretty much an open book. My actions, my beliefs are fairly transparent, I would never use my kindness for ulterior motives. I've helped you these last few weeks because I wanted to see you heal, nothing more to it. And for the record, I have absolutely no problem with touching you. You could never repulse me," she said firmly, as if the notion in and of itself were ridiculous. "There's not a single thing about you that would bother me."

She rose at this and silently crossed the room to fix herself a cup of tea, the matter seemingly settled in her mind.

But the matter was not so simple for Severus as he sat stunned by her kind words, replaying them over and over again in pure disbelief.

 _She doesn't mind touching me?_

 _What a pure, tender soul she is._

 _That Weasley boy better thank Merlin for having a woman like her to call his own._

"The headmistress should be here shortly along with the others. Would you care for some tea?" She asked over her shoulder, breaking his internal monologue.

"Yes, but I can fix it myself," he offered as he began to stand but she gave a firm shake of her head.

"No need, sir. I'm already up. Kindly allow me," she replied, secretly thankful to have an occupation beside making herself look like an idiot.

Hermione poured as she asked over her shoulder, "You take it with just a bit of lemon if I recall correctly?"

Severus' brow creased at this.

"Yes... that's right. How did you know that?"

"You're not the only one who notices their surroundings, Professor," she smiled.

"The summer I spent at Grimmauld Place. You frequently visited then and I remember you would never stay for Molly's amazing meals but you always took tea. You never allowed anyone to fix it for you, which, given your career as a spy that now makes perfect sense. But I remember how you would fix it."

"You remember that? You must've been bored out of your mind to be watching me that closely," he teased at which she laughed softly.

"No, sir. I wasn't spying. It's a rather strange thing actually, I always remember everyone's tea," she said as she handed him his cup and saucer and seated herself once more beside him.

"Harry likes loads of cream and no sugar, Ron on the other hands likes loads of both, barely any room for tea in his cup. Neville likes it black, Luna swirls her with a cinnamon stick she keeps tucked in her pocket. Ginny detests tea all together, finds it too soothing which in and of itself is irritating. Molly and Arthur both like it with sugar only."

"You'd make an excellent spy, you're very obsverant."

"Thank you, sir, but I highly doubt a career in espionage awaits me. No, remembering people's tea was something my mother used to do."

"It didn't matter how many people she knew, she'd always remember. Aunts, uncles, old school friends of hers, neighebors, she never forgot. She would say, 'As a good hostess you should always remember how someone likes their tea, it makes them feel welcome in your company,'" Hermione said with a wistful smile, as she looked down at her tea cup, a sudden rush of grief seizing her at the mere mention of her mother.

Paul and Mary Granger's deaths had been an unexpected and truly devastating blow to the young lady at the end of her fifth year, not long after the battle at the Ministry. Voldemort, feeling rather spiteful and vindictive after the loss of the prophecy, had them murdered in their sleep, a gruesome warning that all those nearest to Potter weren't safe.

Severus remembered being summoned by the Dark Lord and being told that the deed had been done and his stomach dropped at the news. He pretended to cheer and celebrate with the other Death Eaers but as soon as he could, he fled the macabre celebration and raced to Grimmauld Place where he found most of the Order there in the library, surrounding a near-catatonic Miss Granger, seated on the worn, leather sofa.

 _I failed her. I should've known he would do this. I could've protected them better,_ Severus thought as he stood silently with the crowd as Molly cradled the girl against her breast, shushing her gently and smoothing her hair, although the young woman wasn't making a sound.

Severus and Lupin had been dispatched by the Order to accompany her to their funeral in London. She was mostly quiet the journey there, staring bleakly ahead, her eyes red from the effort of holding back her tears. Lupin stood beside her at the cemetery and held her hand tight, but Hermione did not weep even then, watching the caskets being lowered forever into the warm dirt. She merely held her face in a stoic mask and she thanked the many family members and friends who attended. Severus stood near the back of the group, as he kept an eye out for potential danger, but his eyes fell mostly upon her... small, frail, despondent.

When they finally apparated back to Grimmuald Place after the long and exhausting service, Remus immediately went to brief the other Order members waiting in the library, which left Hermione alone in the front hallway with her potions master.

Unsure of what to say, she began to walk up the stairs to her room and then abruptly stopped midway. She turned and walked back to Professor Snape and without thinking, she threw her small arms around his slight frame and embraced the man with all her might. Her head buried in his robes, he was shocked by the touch. But really he shouldn't have been. After all, Miss Granger had a way of surprising him.

Alone in the hallway of the decrepit house, feeling her arms clutching him, Severus finally let his guard down. He slowly brought his arms up and held her as well, his hands bringing her in even closer and sheltering her with just his warmth. He let out a deep sigh that rumbled through his chest.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Miss Granger. I wish I could've saved them. I wish I could've done more," he whispered softly as held her tight, his chin coming to rest just atop her mound of curls.

At this, she lifted her head to see his face framed with genuine concern. The same concern and worry he had shown the night Remus had transformed. But this time guilt and remorse were there as well and it troubled her.

"There's nothing that could've been done. You bear no blame for this. If anything I owe you my eternal thanks, for always being there...for always protecting me," she said as she released him and looked him in the eye, the tears she had held back for days, just starting to brim in her tired eyes.

Severus gave a nod, forcibly willing himself not to step forward and hold her once more. He wanted to hold her and let her cry, wail and soak his robes with her bitter tears. He wanted to be that for her, the one who could hold her through the storm and bring her safely to a calmer shore.

But he knew that was not what she wanted. She had held her tears for days now and he knew what was coming as she turned and slowly climbed the stairs to her room.

Locking the door at once, Severus could feel the silencing wards that immediately enveloped her room, and she then proceeded to stay locked in there for four days. He walked by the door many times, willing her to drop her wards and seek him out.

But she never did and he never knocked. He just hovered near it in case she needed something. When she finally emerged, she looked somber and tired. But she also looked determined and fierce, unbreakable somehow or perhaps broken and pieced back together again, stronger now at the seams. He remembered feeling a distinct pang of pride at her strength.

Eyeing her now, he realized the grief she had buried those many years ago still sat there, still weighed upon her and it caused a peculiar ache to bloom deep within his chest.

"Your mother sounds like she was a lovely woman," he finally said, eyeing her kindly.

"She was...she was," Hermione said, wiping a small tear from her eye, taking a small sip of tea to ease the tears burning the back of her throat.

"I'm sorry," she said with a soft sigh after a long moment. "It...it can hit me at unexpected times."

He eyed her sadly at this and gave a nod, knowing all too well how sneaky grief could be, snatching you up in its clutches when you least expected it.

The silence seemed to stretch on and on when Severus finally spoke.

"They were proud of you, you know. And they would proud to see you now, all that you do each day. You do them justice."

"Perhaps...I don't know," she murmured softly, looking unsure.

"One only has to meet you to be certain that you're special, exceptional in fact. I know for a fact they would be proud of you, as am I," he said, wanting more than anything to bring her some kind of comfort just then.

And his words, uttered softly and sincerely, had just that effect.

"Thank you, sir," she smiled. "That means quite a lot to me."

He gave a nod and silently marveled at what he could do and say in front of her. How he could feel when he was with her. He searched for the right word, the word to encompass that peculiar feeling and then he stumbled upon it.

 _Safe_

Safe to be open with his thoughts and feelings, safe to be a better man, or at least try to be the man he always thought he could be.

Transparency, honesty, kindness, she somehow had a way of magically bringing these things out of him, things that had long ago been buried beneath protective layers of snark and disdain.

How had she done it? Found things that no one can else could? He wondered what type of magic she must possess to accomplish such an unbelievable feat.

And then he knew. It was her faith that did it. Faith that people were inherently good and decent and capable of greatness. A faith that she even extended to him of all people.

He handed her a soft handkerchief from his pocket and she smiled as she wiped her eyes.

"And, um...how do you take your tea?", he asked with warmth and curiosity in his voice, his black eyes warmer and softer than she had ever seen them.

"Oh...just a bit of lemon," she said shyly.

"Same as me," he noted with a small smile.

"Yes, same as you," she nodded.

"Well, then I'll never forget it," he said with a smile.

She smiled in return, her heart feeling suddenly lighter just being near him.

Just then the door swung open and in walked Remus and Sirius, both exhausted-looking but chatting excitedly nonetheless.

With this, the spell was broken. Both Hermione and Severus reluctantly rose and turned to greet the others.

"Good morning, gentlemen," said Hermione and Severus joined with a polite nod.

"Good morning, you two. No one else here yet?" Sirius asked with a wry smile that was not lost on Hermione.

Hermione blushed at his quirked eyebrow and gave him a pointed look.

"Yes, first ones here," she offered lightly. Sirius, of course, wasn't fooled but was currently too excited and distracted to give her too much of a hard time.

"Well, you two will never guess the good news!" said a rather jubilant-looking Sirius with a bashful, smiling Remus in tow, offering an equally bright smile.

"Good news?" Hermione asked, looking curious.

"Very good news," crowed Sirius, pulling Remus forward front and center.

"It looks as if our beloved Moony will soon have a new job, a very important one I might add," teased Sirius, looking pleased as punch.

"Pads, I told you it isn't official yet," Remus gently chided his old friend but still looked quite pleased as well.

"Oh, Remus! A job? That's fantastic! Where?" Hermione excitedly inquired, her whole face lit up with surprise.

"At the Ministry," Remus admitted. "Nothing's official yet, Kingsley is still working out the details and of course, there's been a bit of pushback, what with my condition and all...But yes, it looks as if by this time next week I'll be the assistant director of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," Remus said, finally giving in as his face broke into a wide smile.

"Oh, Remus! That's amazing, congratulations!" Hermione exclaimed, looking and feeling happier than she had in ages.

"That's right," Sirius added, "he'll be managing over seventy people across three divisions. Kingsley said there was no better man for the job."

"I'm honestly, truly stunned by it all," Remus admitted, "I've been helping Kingsley with writing new legislation these past few weeks as a consultant of sorts but I never thought it could lead to this. Kingsley envisions a whole slate of progressive legislation for Centaurs, Goblins, Werewolves, Giants, there's lot of work to be done. I just hope I can do it justice."

"Oh, Remus, you'll do smashing," Hermione said brightly as she beamed at her old defense teacher and pulled him in for a warm kiss on his rugged cheek that caused the old wolf to blush slightly from the attention.

"I couldn't agree more with Sirius, Kingsley made a wonderful choice," she said as a small tear escaped her eye.

This job meant more than a steady paycheck to the man and they all knew it. It meant respect, recognition and acceptance in a society that had shunned his kind since practically forever. Everything he had ever wanted was finally coming his way and he deserved it all and so much more. And for the first time since the war ended, Remus looked genuinely happy and it warmed her to see such a hopeful sight.

"Thank you but, look, it's really not that big of a deal," Remus tried playing it off but the present company wouldn't have it.

"Of course it is, Remus," Severus said resolutely which caused them all to turn in surprise at the quiet man.

"The ministry is fortunate to have a sound mind such as yours at a time like this. You'll help usher in a new era of access and rights for many disadvantaged groups in our society. You'll do well there, you'll do so much good...Congratulations," Severus said as he offered his hand to Remus, who smiled and shook it gratefully.

"Thank you, Severus, that's very kind of you."

Severus gave a nod in return as the door opened once more and in walked Luna and Neville.

As Sirius began joyfully regaling the new comers with the good news, Severus politely excused himself to refill his tea cup, but not before casting one last glance at Hermione who was smiling and laughing amongst her friends. It was a lovely sight to see but he also felt a distract pang at having lost her precious company.

As Hermione chatted with the boys, Neville and Luna, Harry arrived shortly thereafter, then various other professors began to trickle-in and before long, the room was full.

People milled about the breakfast table, fixed cups of tea and chatted about the scathing _Daily Prophet_ article. Everyone seemed concerned and even slightly worried about the accusations but were trying to remain positive, at least until they could grill the headmistress on how much truth said article actually contained.

Although outwardly Hermione was busy making the rounds and being sociable, her eyes couldn't help but fall upon him, again and again. Standing near the window, he mostly ignored the assembled crowd, and simply stared out at the grounds, deep in thought.

The last to arrive were Narcissa and Draco, who both looked tired and only offered a half-hearted greeting to the others. They immediately joined Severus on the edge of the crowd. He greeted the pair warmly, smiling kindly at Narcissa and whispering something to her that caused the elegant woman to giggle softly. Hermione felt a bitter taste in her mouth as her stomach lurched at the sight.

Thankfully, Minerva entered from her own private entrance just then and offered a blessed distraction as she seated herself in her chair and silence feel upon the group.

"Well, then, it looks as if we are all assembled. We should get started," Minerva announced as way of greeting. She looked paler than usual this morning and seemed to want to skip over the usual pleasantries.

"First, a huge thank you to you all. The debris is finally just about cleared from the grounds, main entrance and many of the classrooms, truly you've done a remarkable job for only a month's worth of work," Minerva offered sincerely.

"Although there are still many sections that need clearing, we can now begin reconstructing several sections including most of the grounds, the front hall and Ravenclaw tower. Hermione has your work assignments for today, but before that," she said as she stood and removed her spectacles and eyed the crowd with some concern, "I just want to address what you've no doubt heard about the meeting with the board yesterday."

Aurora was the first to speak.

"Minerva, is it true what the paper said? Has financial help really been offered? Because if so, I think we should take advantage of it and hire a construction firm, certainly they could do a faster and more thorough job of rebuilding the castle than we ever could."

Several quiet murmurs of agreement came from the ragged-looking crowd.

"No, Aurora, unfortunately, that is not true," Minerva said looking somber. "As you know, our budget comes directly from the Ministry and no money, or any other form of assistance, has been offered," Minerva said, her mouth set in a firm line.

"But the paper said-" Aurora began but was cut off.

"This source was lying," Minerva answered. "The ministry is, for all intents and purposes, close to bankruptcy at the moment and thus they are not able to offer any substantive financial support at this time."

Shocked glances were exchanged around the room along with many utterances of disbelief.

"That can't be! Where has all the money gone?!", demanded Madam Hooch, looking irate.

"No one knows for sure," Remus spoke up from the back. "Kingsley has a few leads, but...Tom Riddle was a clever man and Merlin only knows where our government's money was funneled while he controlled the ministry."

"Well, perhaps a construction firm can fix the castle free of charge or maybe accept a delayed payment. Surely, there is some firm that would help us," offered a worried looking Pomona.

"Believe me, I've contacted them all," said Minerva wearily, leaning heavily upon her cane.

"Not a single one will help us without guaranteed payment. Hundreds of homes, buildings, roads, schools and bridges have been destroyed in the past year and with the Ministry's meager funds, our reconstruction just isn't a top priority at the moment. The ministry is attempting to secure a sizable loan from the North American Ministry and if that pans out, we should have the funds to acquire outside help. But in truth, that could takes months if not a full year to trickle down to us," she said sadly.

"So it's up to us then, to fix this whole castle," Sirius piped up, his arms crossed angrily as he stood beside an equally perturbed Remus.

"That's right," Minerva answered.

"By September?! That'll be impossible," squeaked Filius.

"It'll be hard but not impossible," answered Hermione who looked just as unsure of her timetable now as the rest of the crowd.

Several disapproving murmurs went around the room but Minerva silenced them once more.

"This is our school, our home and the home of countless children...that's the bottom line. And as far as I'm concerned the board...I simply don't care what they have requested or even demanded, this will take however long it takes," she stated directly, looking firm and commanding.

"What if it does take a full year? What will students do?", asked Madam Pince.

"They'll be homeschooled if push comes to shove, but let's just take this one thing at a time," Minerva offered in a conciliatory tone that did little to soothe the agitation building in the small office.

"I know you're all tired," she said softly, leaning heavily upon the edge of her desk. "We've fought wars on every front possible, and this castle is simply one last battle. But, I can assure you, it's a worthwhile one. So I am humbling asking, each and every one of you, to dig deep within yourselves to see this through," she implored.

Doubtful looks were exchanged but no one said a word.

"We will do good, quality work, no cutting corners or rushing this. It will take however long it takes," Minerva finished, looking on the verge of outright exhaustion but also completely resolute.

"And what about the board members?", piped up Pomona, still looking uncertain.

Minerva smirked at this and replied, "Until a single board member arrives and fixes a single brick, they can stuff their indignation where the sun doesn't shine."

Several chuckles were elicited at this as Minerva gave a genuine smile.

"Lets all do our best work, each day and eventually this castle will be made whole. That much I'm sure of."

Reluctant smiles were offered as Minerva offered a soft sigh of relief.

"Now, then, with that matter put aside...Hermione, kindly tell us, where is everyone headed today?" Minerva said, affixing her spectacles once again and settling herself in her comfortable desk chair.

"Thank you, headmistress. Let me see," Hermione uttered as she stood before the group and her eyes fell upon her long list.

"Well, first up, Remus and Sirius?" She called out, looking up from her list at the pair standing together off to the side by a bookcase.

"Yes, ma'am?" Sirius answered with a smirk as he and Remus stepped forward.

"Could you both please tackle the the defense classroom today? It has broken windows, the majority of the desks need repairing and the south-facing wall needs a few stones replaced," she said.

"Of course, but I can only work until noon," replied Remus. "I'm meeting Kingsley again at his office along with liaisons from several departments to work on some proposed legislation," he said looking apologetic he couldn't stay and work longer.

"And love, I need to leave no later than two," said Sirius. "I'm going along with Andromeda to take Teddy for his checkup with the mediwitch," Sirius answered with a distinct look of pride and purpose on his smiling face.

"Oh yes, of course, leave whenever you need to," Hermione said with a smile as she checked off their task.

Remus offered a grateful smile and Sirius offered her a tender kiss on her cheek which caused her to blush before the pair walked out of the room to begin their morning of work.

Looking up, her eyes immediately caught Professor Snape's and noticed his eyes narrowed slightly at the gesture, his mouth set in a firm, tight frown.

He looked suddenly angry, almost...jealous, which caused her mind to whirl with confusion.

 _Why would Sirius giving her a friendly kiss on the cheek bother him? Surely he couldn't be jealous? Could he?_

"Where would you like us today?", called out Luna and Neville, smiling happily and standing near the door.

The question pulled Hermione from her strange thoughts, as her eye fell once more to her list.

"Neville and Luna? Ah, yes, could you both please go with Professor Sprout to the greenhouses and finishing resealing the glass enclosure?" Hermione asked to which Luna and Neville happily agreed.

The trio smiled as they left the office, but not before Pomona offered Hermione a discrete smile and mouthed a 'Thank you' toward the young Gryffindor.

Hermione worked her way around the room pairing off the various occupants and sending them on their way.

Sinastra paired up with Trelawney to work in the Divination Tower, Filius left with Hagrid to work on the fountain of the gamekeeper's crumbled hut and Hooch departed with Poppy to work on the stone steps leading up to the castle entrance.

As her eyes came to Mrs. Malfoy her gut churned once more at the sight of the poised, confident woman standing so very close to Professor Snape.

"Mrs. Malfoy, could you please join Madam Pince once more in library?" Hermione asked, trying to stand tall and look commanding herself.

Narcissa offered a slight nod and murmured a quiet "good day" to Severus and her son and left the room with an imperious swish of her dark gray robes, the bookish librarian following quietly in her wake.

With the work mostly divided up, Minerva finally slipped quietly back through her private doorway, clearly in need of more rest given how slowly she walked.

That left only four behind; Severus, Harry, Draco and Hermione.

Hermione eyed her professor with a bit of worry. He looked well-rested and capable, even though he had spent hours the previous day working hard on her bathroom. She frowned as he looked expectantly at her.

"Sir, are you quite sure you're up to working today? There's really no need to push yourself if you're not ready just yet."

"I appreciate you trying to coddle me, Miss Granger, but I am more than able to start work," he assured her.

"Well, if you're quite sure," she hesitated.

"I am. Tell me where I can be of the most assistance," he asked.

Harry finally stepped forward then and spoke.

"Hermione, if I might interrupt, there's one spot I'd liked to work on today. It's outside...and I was hoping Professor Snape might care to join me?"Harry said softly as he stood beside her. He scanned her list and pointed to a particular line item, catching her eye.

Hermione smiled warmly and nodded.

"Of course," she said.

Turning to his professor, Harry said, "Would you mind joining me, sir?"

Severus was taken aback, not only by the unusual request but also by the genuinely hopeful look on the young man's face.

"Surely, Miss Granger could assist you, no?"

"Professor Snape, if you're feeling up to it, you should accompany Harry today. I think you'll find it's a very worthwhile endeavor," Hermione said with a secret, knowing smile that did strange things to Severus and he found himself giving a reluctant nod.

"As you wish, Miss Granger," Professor Snape answered.

"Lead the way, Mr. Potter," he offered politely but formally, still looking quite unsure of what exactly this day would hold.

The unlikely pair left the office with Harry looking pleased yet nervous, and Snape looking suspicious yet intrigued.

And then there were two.

"Alright then Draco, that means you're stuck with me for the day. We'll be working on the stone work surrounding Ravenclaw Tower," Hermione answered as she finalized her list and began to head towards the door.

"Can't you do that by yourself? You can put me to work somewhere else, I can work alone," Draco offered a bit tersely, clearly looking unhappy with the day's assignment.

"Actually the spell work is fairly advanced and requires two sets of hands. Sorry but you're stuck with me today," she volleyed back as she reached the door.

Draco sighed but chose not to argue.

"Very well," he said resignedly, his sigh heavy and his posture suddenly sagging. "Let's go."

As the pair descended the winding steps and found themselves walking alone in the hallway, Draco suddenly adopted a rather quick stride and Hermione found she had to lengthen her gate just to keep up.

"Do you always walk this slow?" Draco snapped as they wended their way through the winding hallways.

"I'm sorry, do you have something better you could be doing?" Hermione asked rather acidly.

"About a million better things, Granger," he replied bitterly, his shoes taping out an angry beat against the stonework.

"Then leave, why don't you. Nothing's keeping you here," she bit out, walking just as fast.

"You know very well I have no place else to go," he snapped once more, looking more and more put out with each step he took.

"Then quit your bellyaching. I, too, have better things to do with my time," she eyed him sharply as she rounded a corner, passing him.

"Yeah, saving the world one shattered windowpane at a time," he muttered under his breath.

At this she stopped and whirled around to face him, her eyes wide with indignation.

"Now listen here," her voice low and threatening. "I know you don't want to be here and working with me must be a real blow to that precious ego of yours but it's what your stuck with. No one else wants to work with you but me. But if you think for one moment I will stomach your rude tongue today, you're greatly mistaken," she snarled.

Draco's eyes narrowed with anger at each utterance but he merely looked away rather than respond.

"You may have gotten away with your shitty attitude yesterday with Neville and Professor Sprout, but I can assure you, I am nowhere near as patient. Push my buttons, and I will hex you. Understood?", she snapped.

"Fuck sake, Granger. I was just busting your balls, can't you take a joke?", he said defensively, as if her dressing-down didn't faze him in the least.

"You're not joking, you're genuinely angry at having to help and having to work and soil your precious pure-blood hands with menial labor. Working alongside Neville and Merlin forbid a filthy mudblood like me," she spat. "Must be pure torture for you."

His face paled at this and his previous defiance faded.

"I haven't used that word in a very long time," he uttered, looking uncomfortable and contrite.

"You might as well have, the way you stare daggers at me. This is all beneath you and it must gall you to no end to take orders from me."

"Maybe this isn't about you, Granger! Alright?!" He snapped back, angrily stomping away.

"Pissy little brat," she muttered which caused Draco to angrily turn and face her again.

"And so what if I am pissed?! Don't I have that right? I mean... I'm here, I'm helping, I'm doing my part. What more could you possibly want from me?!", he yelled, his face flushed bright red.

"What I want is for you to stop being such a selfish bastard! Stop putting everyone down in some vain attempt to boost your own fragile ego! Think of someone or something else for a change! Be a decent fucking person! That's what I want!", she shouted, her voice ricocheting around the stone hallway.

Draco stared at her wide-eyed with shock, too stunned to form a proper retort. No one dared to speak to him that way and his face contorted in rage at her acerbic words.

"I'm off to do my job. Maybe you could join me," she spat as she stomped off in the direction of the decimated tower.

He balled his fists in rage and let the exquisite fantasy of taking off flitter across his mind for a brief moment. He smiled at the thought of telling Granger to shove her demands straight up her ass and leaving this wretched castle for good.

But no sooner had this thought crossed his mind, than he immediately remembered his mother and the not so small fact that he was destitute and had no where else to go.

He let out a heavy sigh and reluctantly followed in Granger's thunderous wake.

He arrived a few minutes after her at the base of the crumbled tower, the long walk there allowing him the space and solitude he needed to reign in his temper ever so slightly.

But upon seeing the stone work laying in a heap and an abundant amount of sunshine pouring into the castle now that the tower was no longer standing, his mood soured even further.

Hermione had spent the previous day banishing the dust and stones that could not be magically repaired. She then neatly stacked the stones in organized piles at the base of the crumbled stairs.

He stood beside her but refused to meet her fiery gaze, a small part of him knowing that she had been right but a larger, more stubborn part of him adamantly refusing to acknowledge that, at least not to her.

He merely set about his work for the day, studiously ignoring his shame, anger and sadness. He had, after all, a lifetime of practice at hiding how he really felt and pretending that other's opinions did not trouble him and thus was quite adept at it by now.

He was here to work and provide for himself and his mother, no more, no less. And he would be damned if he would let Granger get under his skin, he had more important things to do than please or befriend her. He didn't need her approval or praise, at least that was what he kept telling himself.

"Alright so, we'll just start here at the bottom and work out way up," Draco said as he brandished his wand and summoned the first stone nearest him.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple. You can't just start stacking them up," she said as she unfurled a magical blueprint that showed an intricate pattern of stone work.

"These are the reproduced schematics of what the tower originally looked like. So we can't just stack them up out of order. These stones were put in place over a thousand years ago. If we want the tower to stand for longer than a week, we need to magically replicate the original pattern the stones were in and then once we have matched the stones in the correct position, we will magically cement and seal the stones together," she said authoritatively.

"You're telling me that we have to go stone by stone?", he asked incredulously.

"Do you know of a better way?", she volleyed back.

Draco only sighed in frustration.

"This is going to take forever," he groused.

"Well, several hours at the very least. But you heard the headmistress, we want it done right," Hermione replied as she brandished her wand.

Draco rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall moodily.

"Working with Longbottom on the green house suddenly doesn't seem so bad," he sulked.

"Yes, well, next time you'll thing long and hard before insulting him, now won't you?" Hermione said curtly.

"It's not my fault the prat couldn't fix the glass," he murmured.

"Well, from what I heard the glass is still broken so you couldn't have fared much better."

Draco soured at this but didn't retort.

As she set the blueprints down on a make-shift table she conjured out of a broken chair, he peered questioningly over her shoulder.

"Are you sure about this? The blueprints and the incantations? Last time I checked they didn't offer magical construction as an elective," he quipped.

"The headmistress has consulted with a building historian and they've assured us that this is the best way to rebuild," she offered with a confident nod.

He stood aside as he watched her magically summon a stone from the top of the pile. The brick soared through the air, twenty feet above their heads and held itself in place, its original spot having been located.

Hermione turned to give him a questioning look that would've rivaled something McGonagall would have managed.

"Well, are you going to stand there and gape at me all day or are you going to help?"

He scowled, his face set in a rigid mask of deep displeasure but also stood up tall and reluctantly began the incantation.

~~~~0000~~~~

The grounds were mostly quiet as Harry and Professor Snape trudged across the sloping grass. Off in the distance, a faint sound of friendly chatter could be heard from Hagrid and Professor Flitwick near the southern end of the field as well as Madam Hooch and Poppy who were working on the front steps.

Harry and Severus, however, were silent, neither one accustomed to being near the other without feeling hostile. This was uncharted waters and they both were treading carefully.

As Harry began leading them further and further away from the castle, winding around the large lake, Severus' curiosity finally got the better of him.

"Where _exactly_ are we working today, Mr. Potter?", he asked pointedly as his right leg began to ache from the already-long walk.

"Well... I thought we could work on Dumbledore's grave," Harry answered, looking unsure as to how his companion would take this news.

Severus stilled at this as he noticed for the first time, the tomb off in the distance, glistening pure white in the sunlight.

He had yet to actually visit Albus' grave and he wasn't entirely sure he ever would be ready to face this particular truth. Albus has visited the portrait that hung in the infirmary and talked to Severus every single day and his presence there helped keep at bay the notion that he was no longer alive. Severus had in fact mostly fooled himself into believing that little lie for he found even in his meddlesome ways, he much preferred to have Albus around than the alternative.

But the idea of seeing his tomb, actually laying his hands on the cold stone and knowing that Albus was truly not of this world any longer felt like too hard a pill to swallow. He simply was not ready to face this, not yet.

"Why did you ask me to accompany you today, Potter?" Severus asked, standing rigidly in place as his temper flared slightly at having to face this rather unpleasant surprise.

"I need your help fixing this, sir. I sealed the Elder Wand within it on the day of the battle, but I never had a chance to properly fix it. I was hoping you could help," Harry said, offering a faint smile.

"I think we both know that you could've accomplished this alone," Snape answered coolly, looking warily at the cracked, white marble laying in the distance.

"I'm sure I could have but I...I thought this might be something you'd like to help with."

"And why, might I ask, would you assume such a thing?" Severus inquired, his famous quirked eyebrow challenging the younger man for a suitable answer.

"It may sound silly, sir, but I feel as if Professor Dumbledore saw us both as...well, as _...sons_ ," Harry softly said which caused Severus to visibly blanch and look away.

"Or at least the closest thing he might've had to sons. And this is something that I think you and I should fix... _together_ ," Harry offered resolutely, looking nervous but striving for confidence.

Severus swallowed hard at this.

 _Son_

Albus had called him that many times, and he could envision him doing the same with Potter. It had been used for both selfish and selfless aims, Severus knew that, as did Potter, in all likleyhood. Albus was a complicated man, human afterall and worthy of both praise and criticism. He had been far from a perfect father figure, often asking and even expecting far too much from his children, but he had in truth been the only real father Severus had ever known and as such, he deserved a proper grave. Severus drew a deep breath, his lips pursed in aggravation.

"Very well. We'll fix this and then I'm heading back to work in the castle. There's much to be done," Severus finally answered as he resumed his halted walk and Harry happily followed.

"Of course, sir. Thank you for agreeing," Harry smiled, looking as if he had just won a personal victory.

Severus nodded in return but in truth he now felt furious at being tricked into working with Potter and fixing Dumbledore's grave no less. Dread rose in his chest with each step they drew closer to the grave, but Severus knew that Potter was right, he should be the one to fix it, after all he was the reason Albus was in the ground in the first place.

 _A worthwhile endeavor, my ass,_ Severus thought sourly of the young, smiling Gryffindor, beguiling him with her warmth and kindness.

Forcing him to confront Albus' death and having lovely Mr. Potter's company while doing so.

 _I'll wring her neck when I get ahold of her._

But worse than the task at hand was the other obvious reason that Potter had set this up. Severus internally groaned as the words left the young man's lips.

"Sir, I know things have been so busy since the war ended and I've never had a proper chance to speak with you. To thank you for everything you've done for me," Harry said, his green eyes so hopeful and kind.

Severus felt bile rise in his throat along with profound discomfort as he eyed his companion warily.

"That isn't necessary, Mr. Potter," he offered in a clipped tone, trying to recover his usual mask of impeccable emotional reserve.

Severus set off at a rather brisk pace, quickly leaving Harry behind.

It would seem Potter was feeling rather introspective today and was looking for some kind of heart-to-heart with him and Severus shuddered at the thought of it alone.

He just couldn't bring himself to delve into this particular can of worms. Due to his close brush with death, Potter now knew far more about Severus' past than he had ever wished for anyone to know about, let alone James Potter's only son. Certainly it was enough that Potter now knew of his true allegiances. But no, he wanted more, and Severus was not entirely sure he had it within himself to give.

Harry let out an angry sigh as he watched his old nemesis trudge further and further away, hobbling on his cane as fast as he could. Harry drew a deep breath and began to walk quickly, soon catching up to his old potions master, looking resolute and determined.

"You know, you make it rather hard to get along with you when you're like this, sir," Harry offered in a rather conversational tone.

"Like what, exactly?" Severus asked, his voice laced with apparent irritation.

"Like this," Harry pointed out, as if it were plain to see. "Cold, obstinate, stubborn. I'm just trying to talk to you, sir and I would appreciate it if you'd just talk to me," Harry pleaded sincerely.

"I'm not interested," Severus said coldly, hoping to put a quick end to this discussion.

"Fine," Harry sighed in frustration, but managing to keep his tone even. "I won't push. You don't want to talk, I get it," he calmly replied as he set off to climb the slight mound upon which Albus' tomb sat.

Severus stopped and eyed the young man critically. His patience and respectful tone were immediately off-putting and quite uncharacteristic given that cool detachment had never been his stroung suit. He'd always been brash and downright rude when confronted, just like his father.

He was different now, more mature and level-headed and then it hit Severus. This diplomacy and maturity was all Lily, all of her generous, lovely attributes were finally surfacing in the young man and it unnerved Severus to no end.

Harry circled the tomb, he eyes scanning the cracks and crushed stone, seemingly plotting out how to go about fixing it. After a minute, he straightened up, rolled up the sleeves of his cotton shirt and turned his gaze upon Severus who now stood closer but still off to the side.

"The inner chamber has been sealed and warded but the outside of it needs quite a bit of work," Harry noted.

"I can see that, Potter, thank you," Severus bit out while leaning his cane against a tree and pulling his wand from his shirt sleeve.

Harry only set his mouth in a firm line, seemingly drawing upon his new-found patience once more.

"From what I've read, a tomb such as this would contain at least several layers of stone, followed by protective enchantments, is that right, sir?", he asked, his tone even and respectful.

"You actually read, I'm impressed," drawled Severus, thoroughly enjoying the sight of Potter's face turning red with the force of holding his tongue.

But Harry only crossed his arms and said, "We can stand here and you can insult me all day or we can get to work, sir. Your choice."

The condescending tone only further fueled Severus' foul mood. He merely smirked in response and stepped forward, looking both commanding and impatient, just like he had for the past seven years.

"I'll handle the tomb myself, Potter. You clear the surrounding grounds and make sure the ground is solid and firm. The force of Voldemort's spell could've damaged the ground layer beneath," he all but barked, dismissing Harry as if he were no older than a first year.

"Yes, sir," Harry offered rather defeatedly as he began the rather menial task of clearing away the crushed stone and overgrown weeds.

Two hours passed in perfect silence. Harry would glance up from time to time to try and catch his professor's eye, but Severus studiously ignored him. His head down, sweat coating his brow as he magically gathered the stone dust to recreate the tomb, he was trying his best to hurry and finish this blasted task but the enchantments were complicated and for some reason not holding, thus preventing him from getting very far.

After the fourth futile attempt to magically seal the first stone layer, Severus called out a sharp, "Bugger it all!"

Harry looked up from his seat in the grass, where he had been for the last thirty minutes, since his rather paultry job of leaf clearing was complete.

"Are you alright, sir? Can I help?" Harry asked, looking concerned.

"I highly doubt it. Just stay where you are, I don't want what little work I have completed to be compromised," Severus said as he attempted the spell once more.

"Suit yourself, sir. But know that I am able to help, should you want it."

Severus wiped his brow and felt woozy as the spell failed once more, both hands shaking slightly and his right leg now numb.

"You're looking a bit tired, sir. Perhaps a break could help?" Harry gently offered.

"Very well," Severus uttered rather defeatedly. He had wanted to be done by now and was no more than half-way complete. He blew out an exhausted sigh as the blazing sun beat down upon him.

He hobbled away from the tomb to a shaded tree and leaned against it. He felt weak from the heat and the incredible magical expenditure. Harry only quietly watched him from ten feet away.

Minutes passed as Severus slowly regained some equilibrium. His head gradually stopped spinning but he still felt nauseous and so very tired. He slid to a graceless heap at the base of the tree. As he lifted his head he caught sight of Potter watching him intently. Severus had known the young man for far too long not to know that he was internally debating something. The wheels were turning and Severus would have bet all the gold in Gringott's that the young man had other reasons for wanting to share his rather miserable company today.

Harry finally summoned his courage and cleared his throat.

"So...you really knew my mother?"

There it was, the real reason Pottter had wanted to get him alone.

"You know that I did, why are you asking me a rhetorical question?" Severus snapped as he rubbed his sore legs and tried to keep his temper somewhat in check.

"I guess...I guess I was just hoping..." Harry began but faltered at the withering gaze shot his way.

"Hope is a dangerous thing, Mr. Potter."

"Be that as it may, I was _hoping_ you could tell me a bit about her...what was she like, sir?"

"I'm sure Black and Lupin have told you stories," Severus said dismissively.

"Yes, they have. But it sounds as if they weren't good friends until she was sixteen or so. But you grew up with her. You knew her since she was a little girl, right?"

Severus looked off in the distance a moment, recalling how it felt the first time he had met the exquisite Lily Evans and swallowed hard at the sorrow that swept over him like a storm cloud.

"Nine...we met when we were nine," Severus softly admitted.

"What was she like? As a child?" Harry asked with a face full of eager excitement.

But Severus only shook his head, resuming his stoic façade and obvious irritatation.

"This isn't the time or place for this discussion," Severus declared, pulling himself once more to his tired feet in a vain attempt to walk away from the uncomfortable questions headed his way.

But persistent Mr. Potter would have none of it.

"Why not?" Harry pressed, standing and following after him.

"I have nothing to share. Go and ask your aunt," Severus said stalking off back to the tomb, battling hard against his own body's desire to rest.

"My aunt and uncle won't speak to me. Please, sir. Surely there's something you can tell me. I just..I have so little of her."

"That's not my concern," Severus said as he reached the tomb and gripped the broken edge to steady himself and shore up his weight. The jagged marble digging into his palm helped give him something to focus on beside the tremendous guilt and self-loathing that always seemed to grip his heart so tight.

"I'm not saying it is, I just-"

"What?! What is it you want from me?! Haven't I given you enough?!" Severus shouted, turning from the grave, his face painted with raw fury.

"Damnit! Just tell me something, anything, I don't care! Her favorite book, or color, or food! Please, just give me something!" Harry pleaded in genuine supplication.

"No! I'm under no obligation to do this. I should've never given you those memories! I've protected you to the best of my abilities your entire life, I owe you no more!"

"I'm not saying you owe me anything, I'm asking this as a favor," Harry said stepping forward to place a gentle hand on Severus' arm, but the Slytherin only recoiled with renewed anger.

"We are not friends, do you understand me?" Severus hissed, standing tall and imposing over Potter. "I will grant you no favors, not now nor ever! Now if you're quite finished wasting my time, kindly get out of my sight! I have work to do," he caustically spat, as he turned back towards the tomb.

Harry neither moved nor spoke for a long moment. When he finally did speak, his voice was soft and full of sadness rather than anger.

"Do you really hate me this much? Am I really that much of a burden to be around?"

Severus dropped his head as the words reached him and he gave a soft sigh of shame and anguish.

He had never hated the boy, not really. He hated what he represented, namely his arrogance and pride, two attributes that Severus would forever link to James Potter. How could he separate the two and finally see that this man standing before him in supplication was not his father? That he had just as much Lily in him as he did James? He did not need to keep punishing him and yet he couldn't seem to stop it.

He wanted to apologize, truly he did, but somehow he could only offer his silence as a reply, the words stuck painfully in his throat.

"I see," said Harry eying the ground, his cheeks burning red with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry I...remind you so acutely of my father, and I'm sorry I've been a...painful presence in your life. I know I never made it easy to protect me. If I had it all to do over again, I would offered you the respect you deserved. But I suppose it's too late to make amends or change that all now.

"I won't force you to be around me any longer. I'll leave you be now, sir. I'll fix this another day."

Harry turned and began to trudge back to the castle, his shoulders sagging as he marched.

Severus let out a deep, weary sigh at the sight. His brooding stride was all Lily and it gripped him tight to see it.

Severus dropped his head back and looked heavenward. He drew a deep breath, resignation and acceptance washing over him.

"'Charlotte's Web'," Severus called out to the retreating young man.

Harry stopped in his tracks and turned in surprise.

"W-what did you say?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"'Charlotte's Web' was her favorite book, at least...when she was nine. When she eleven, she liked 'Wuthering Heights' and by thirteen it was 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'," Severus said, hobbling away from the tomb and settling himself heavily atop a fallen, withered tree.

Harry looked shocked and amazed and slowly began to walk back towards the older man.

"She liked to read...so she was a bit of a bookworm? Preferred to stay inside?" Harry asked cautiously, not wanting to push or pry too hard and end this incredible conversation.

Severus felt a small flicker of peace as Harry's green eyes lit up with joy and so Severus pressed on, ignoring his usual instinct to be cruel and hurtful.

"Hardly, she loved being outside, rain or shine. She loved to play hide and seek, she in fact could hide so well, I often had to call quits before I could find her. She loved roller skating, swimming, shooting marbles in her driveway," Severus offered, letting the long dormant memories wash over him like a soothing balm.

"We would get lost for hours in the woods behind her street. I never talked much but she would constantly talk and sometimes even sing. She had quite a lovely voice," Severus said softly.

"What would she sing?"

"Mostly hymns from the church she went to, but sometimes she'd sing Diana Ross too."

Harry chuckled at this to which Severus quirked an eyebrow.

"It was the seventies and we were ten, after all," Severus offered defensively but also offered a small smile at the memory of Lily singing at the top of her lungs while swinging upside down from a tree.

"What was her favorite food?" Harry asked, as he sat down upon the grass and began to slowly relax with his old nemesis.

"Fresh strawberries," Severus answered immediately. "She could eat a whole bushel all by herself. We damn near got caught one spring in Mrs. McAlister's garden when she discovered her beloved strawberry bush mysteriously bare and our faces and hands beet red.

"She also loved spice cake and your grandmother's cinnamon rolls."

"She had a sweet tooth," Harry said with a smile.

"Yes, it didn't help that your grandmother was a rather gifted baker. Lily always had cookies in her pockets, would always share them with me."

Harry smiled at this.

"There was a bakery on Climmon's street, it closed many years ago, but they used to make a small chocolate cream tart that she loved. It was covered in chocolate curls and cream rosettes, and as we'd pass it along our walks through town she would always stop to stare at it in the bakery window. So for her eleventh birthday, I stole five pounds from my father's wallet so I could go and buy her one. The baker even put a red bow on the box. It was the only thing I could afford to give her but she loved it. She even shared it with me, sitting on her bed, watching it snow through her window. Her owl arrived that very afternoon from Minerva and we read her acceptance letter together. We were so excited to come and study magic. We couldn't wait to begin our grand adventure, together. We had everything at our fingertips, we just didn't know it then."

"That day...it's one of my happiest memories."

"I'm sure it was for her as well," Harry offered. "And it was brave of you to nick the money. Did your father notice it was missing?"

"Oh yes, five pounds was quite a lot of money to my father, and when he arrived at the pub that night and couldn't afford to settle his usual, size-able tab, he knew I had stolen it."

"Was he angry?" Harry asked but secretly he could already tell the answer.

Severus chuckled darkly then, eyeing the ground sadly, then offered a slight nod.

"Yes...quite angry, I remember that night well," he said, absentmindedly rubbing an old, jagged scar that ran the length of his right forearm. "But it was worth it," he finally said with a small smile as he eyed Harry.

"Lily had a exceptional heart, and I trust you to know me well enough that I don't band that word about as if it means nothing. Truly exceptional," he said reverentially.

"She was always helping animals, bringing cream to stray kittens, she even found room in her heart for her cruel, horrible sister. Lily had a seemingly endless supply of kindness and she seemed to have a knack for knowing who needed it the most...hence her kindness towards me, I suppose."

"I think it was more than that for her," Harry offered knowingly.

"Perhaps. I'd like to think I gave her something in return for all of her kindness. But I'll never know for sure," Severus said with a doubtful expression.

"When was..." Harry began but then stopped, looking unsure of himself.

"Go on," Severus gently encouraged the young man.

"When was the last time you saw her alive?" Harry finally asked, looking somewhat ashen and uncomfortable at having asked the question.

Severus nodded gravely at this, his eyes far away for a moment.

"She would have been...twenty, at the time. She was heavily pregnant with you. It was end of July and she was coming out of Belson's baby shop in Diagonal Alley, her arms full of bags and I was leaving from an apothecary. We saw eachother from across the street. We hadn't seen each other in well over a year by that point. She looked happy, glowing...beautiful.

"She looked at me and...she actually smiled and waved, she even started to cross the street but I fled. Tore down the other way and didn't look back. Apparatred as soon as I could."

"But...why? Didn't you want to see her?" Harry asked.

"I was still angry at her. For disowning me...but what choice did I give her? Of course, she turned away from me, as well she should."

"For calling her a mud-"

"No, no...she forgave me for that, sweet girl that she was. No, that wasn't why our friendship ended. It was ultimately due to my refusal to leave the Death Eaters. She begged me and I refused, and that was the end of our relationship."

"You should've listened to her," Harry said sadly.

"I was being foolish and petulant and I once more turned away from her."

"She could've helped you."

"Yes, I know that now. Hindsight usually is twenty-twenty."

"It sounds like she cared for you, deeply," Harry noted with some surprise but was nonetheless genuine.

"She did," Severus agreed. "I'm certain of it."

"And you loved her? I mean...really and truly _loved_ her?"

"Yes," Severus answered immediately.

This time Harry didn't look surprised. He only gave a nod as he eyed his professor with some sadness.

"Do you still love her?"

Severus paused at this.

"Yes..in a way," he breathed out, not daring to look Harry in the eye.

"How could you hurt the woman you loved?" Harry asked, looking genuinely confused at such behavior.

"I was blinded by ambition, by anger, by jealousy," he offered with a sad shake of his head.

"Of my father?"

"Yes...your father had everything in my eyes, a good home, friends, decent grades although he never tried and then ...he had the woman I loved. I was wrong to hate him, I knew that, but still I felt it. And it drove me to Riddle. I wanted to feel powerful, great in some way. And look where that hubris landed me..." Severus said, eying Albus' tomb and feeling a powerful rush of grief envelope him.

"It's my fault you grew up without her, my fault you can't even remember her," Severus said as he hung his tired head in his hands, unshed tears burning his eyes.

"No, it isn't, sir. It's Peter Pettigrew and Tom Riddle's fault, not yours," Harry offered adamantly.

"I told him of the prophecy. I did this."

"You told him part of the prophecy and you didn't even know it was about her. And when you did discover it was, you tried to save her," Harry implored.

"And I failed. I killed her, I did, I may as well have cast the curse myself," Severus admitted, feeling so lost within his grief.

"Stop it!" Harry shouted, jumping at once to his feet, looking both indignant and frustrated.

"I'm just telling you the truth, Mr. Potter. Isn't this what you wanted?" Severus asked softly.

"This may be how you view what happened but it's not how others see it, myself included. I don't blame you, sir."

Severus smiled sadly at this.

"That is very mature of you, Mr. Potter but it's not your absolution I am in need of," he offered as he eyed the ground feeling painfully exposed.

"You want my mother's forgiveness, then?" Harry realized.

 _More than you could ever possibly imagine_.

"I want things that are...impossible," Severus finally uttered. "I want to go back and make different decisions, be a different man. I want your mother to have survived. I want to have lead a different life," he finally said, laying it all out without hesitation.

Harry sat down beside him on the fallen tree and held his anguished gaze.

"I don't think that's possible. None of us can go back and fix all of our mistakes. But we can try and learn from them and strive to be better, in the here and now."

"I'm trying, believe me, I am, Mr. Potter...but I'm just not sure what exactly is here for me now or what awaits me," Severus uttered, looking lost and overwhelmed.

"None of us do," Harry answered simply, "what will come, will come. No use dwelling on the past for it is done with and as such is well beyond our control. And not even the all-powerful Severus Snape can change that."

Severus chuckled slightly at this and Harry smiled back.

"You've protected my ungrateful arse for nearly two decades and you damn near died as a result of it. Any debt you may have owed is well and truly repaid. You are forgiven, so please, sir...leave this guilt behind."

His green eyes were full of genuine concern, such thoughtfulness, it nearly stole Severus' breath away.

"And what if I can't, Mr. Potter? Then what?"

"Then you'll never really live, now will you? You'll be little more than a ghost... here but not really. She would never have wanted you to live a life like that. Punishing yourself...it wouldn't change anything, just be a waste of time, a waste of a good life.

"And I'll wager, there's a lot more to you than this grief and loss. So why not at least try? Try and be a good man, do all the things my mother would've wanted you to do," Harry stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Severus only stared out into the forbidden forest, true anguish and pain visible on his face. The words he needed to say, the ones he had carried with him for twenty years finally bubbled to the surface and now, he was finally brave enough to say them aloud.

"I am so sorry for your mother's death...more than you'll ever know," Severus uttered softly as he looked at Harry and fought back a lifetime's worth of burning tears.

"I know, sir... _I know_ ," Harry said kindly, who was just as choked up as his professor, as a silent understanding passed between the pair.

Severus breathed in and for the first time in a long time, the tightness in his chest felt lessened.

Somewhere along the way, this young, brash, foolish boy had grown into a generous, thoughtful and forgiving man and he was granting Severus not only the absolution he so desperately needed, but also permission to actually try and live a real life.

This was Lily's message he was hearing once more, this time delivered by her own flesh and blood and it shook Severus to his core. The universe, this young man, his lifelong love were all somehow conspiring to keep giving him the second chance he never deserved and seemingly wouldn't accept.

Staring into those warm, emerald eyes, now full of endless patience and understanding, just like he had remembered from his youth, he realized it was finally time he listened and took this blessing to heart.

And so the great, stubborn Severus Snape drew a deep, shaky breath and headed into the frightening unknown, silently accepting this new beginning as an offering of thanks to all the good people who blessed him with their kindness and generosity. He would try, sincerely so, to be a better man. He owed it to Lily, to Mr. Potter and most of all, to Miss Granger for giving him this chance. He vowed to try and not waste it.

This was a fresh, clean slate, a place to truly start anew and it gave Severus hope that Lily had been right after all, maybe he could change things, not by dwelling on the past but focusing on the present.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. You are far more like your mother than I ever realized," Severus admitted, looking at the young man with a new kind of appreciation.

"I hope so, Professor...I hope so," Harry said with a warm smile.

After a long moment of quiet, with both men pulling themselves together, Harry glanced at the sun, high above the tree tops and said, "It must be near noon. "Why don't we head back? It's been quite a long morning. I'll come back to finish this job another day," Harry offered as he stood.

"No, not yet," Severus replied. "I want to finish this and give Albus the resting place he deserves. But it would seem I do need your help...would you please assist me?" Severus kindly asked, standing slowly on his sore legs and looking at Harry.

Harry smiled at this, "It would be my pleasure."

Severus gave an approving nod and looked around for his cane, resting against the tree where he had left it earlier, some twenty feet away.

Harry followed his gaze and immediately turned to fetch it. Retrieving it effortlessly and handing it back to Severus with a small smile.

"Thank you," Severus said sincerely as the pair set off to finish their assignment, each feeling tired but also lighter somehow, renewed in both mind and spirit.

 _~~~~0000~~~~_

Draco and Hermione were each exhausted as the afternoon arrived and the sun glided across the cloudless sky.

Stone by stone, they had magically set each piece into the air and held it floating there and now, five hours after they had started, each stone was set in its original spot and the pair were now standing at the base of the completed tower, as opposed to standing in the fresh air.

"Alright, now I'm going to need you to hold the blueprint spell in place while I cast the cementing charm," she said, looking and feeling rather ragged.

"I'm going to sususpend my hold on it now, have you got it?" she asked.

"Yes...just be quick, I'm exhausted," Draco asked, looking equally spent.

She finally released her hold on the enchantment and breathed a sigh of relief that it didn't immediately crumble, a clear sign that Draco was holding it in her place.

Quickly wiping her sweaty brow, with a shaky hand, Hermione felt her whole body burning up from the exertion of holding such focused magic for so long. But she pushed her discomfort aside and focused her energy on the task at hand.

She pulled another incantation from her back pocket and quickly unfolded the long slip.

But as her eyes scanned the complicated verse, the words began to swim before her as her head started to spin and her stomach lurched with nausea. Her legs and arms suddenly felt as if they were filled with lead. Just keeping her eyes open was a suddenly impossible task as tremors began to shake her whole body.

"Granger, hurry up, damnit! I can't hold this spell forever!" Draco snapped as his body too began to shake from exhaustion.

She forcibly shook her head to try and focus once more.

"As I start the sealing spell, you can slowly diminish your hold on the placement spell," Hermione said, her voice trembling slightly as her head swam with vertigo.

She pulled her wand and started to speak but quickly discovered she was far more ill than she had realized.

"I...I," she stammered as her heart began to pound and her chest painfully tightened.

"Granger, you alright?" Draco asked, eyeing her directly for the first time in hours. She was sheet white and covered in sweat, her eyes barely opened as she swayed dangerously on her feet.

"Pull it together! We've got to seal these stones or they'll fall!" He shouted trying to rouse her from her stupor.

But the loud words reached her as if passing through deep water, muffled and distant, barely registering as her eyes closed fully and she crumpled in a heap.

As her body hit the stone floor, her head cracked painfully with a sickening thud against the bottom stone step and her body lay in a heap.

Draco's eyes widened to the size of tea saucers at the sight.

"Granger! Granger, can you hear me!?", he shouted while still standing and holding the spell.

But she didn't utter a word, and laid perfectly still as blood began to slowly pool around her unruly hair, staining the auburn locks and the stone below a deep, dark red.

The spreading warmth shocked Draco out of his temporary stupor as he quickly realized how grave the situation was.

Granger was unconscious and bleeding, profusely by the looks of it, and Draco was all alone, holding up a three tons worth ancient stone by the sheer force of his rapidly dwindling magic.

 **A/N: AHHH, so cliffy! I'm sorry, but it felt like a good pausing point. Plus, this chapter was super long and I'm tuckered. So I promise to work furiously on the next chapter and try to get it posted after Thanksgiving. Love you all! Thanks for reading :)**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello, again :)**

 **What started as a one-shot has now blossomed to close to 120k words, with over 400 follows and close to 200 favorites. Don't believe for a single second that it doesn't mean the world to me. Thank you, each and every one of you, for all the love & support. The reviews are especially a great treat so a big thanks to all who stop by and share their thoughts. They are all greatly appreciated. **

**This chapter is shorter than the last few. It all just grew too big, I was trying to shove too much into this chapter so I split it up. So the good news is that the next chapter is damn near done and should be up within the week :) Hope everyone is doing well! Happy New Year!**

 _Sometimes I'm terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants._

 _The way it starts and stops._

 _\- Edgar Allen Poe_

For a long moment, all was perfectly quiet in the tower.

Dust filled the air and could be seen floating slowly, gracefully back to the ground as soft sunlight streamed down through the uppermost, stained-glass windows.

A gentle, warm breeze wafted through and brought with it the summer scent of oleanders.

Monarchs fluttered across the patch of fresh milkweed beside the cool, calm lake.

But this idyllic scene belied the tremendous terror rushing through Draco Malfoy, who stood stock still at the base of the tall, winding tower.

His ears filled with a horrible pounding, no doubt a side-effect of his own magic frantically and chaotically whirling through his quaking body and his timid heart pounding like a snare drum.

His stomach lurched painfully and tightened. Bitterness filled his mouth as he fought down the bile. He felt certain he would vomit.

His legs felt weak and wobbly, as though he were suddenly standing on quick sand, barely able to stay upright. He felt a sharp stabbing pain throb through his temples as his vision blurred in and out of focus, wooziness soon took over.

His body was not working as it should, and it felt disconcerting, to say the least. Yet his own body was the least of Draco's troubles at that moment.

For it was the scene laid out before him, more specifically sprawled across the floor in front of him, that terrified him the most.

Color, shockingly-vivid color, that had no place being in such a small, dingy, dust-filled space, now seemed to fill every square inch and hold him entranced and horrified.

Bright red. Her blood was slowly migrating and spreading across the gray stone, seeping into the cracks of the castle, mixing with dirt and crushed stone as it crept silently towards Draco's black leather boots.

Sheet white. The warm hue that had graced her cheeks all morning was now quickly draining and in its place came a pure, ghostly white, quite unnatural and worrisome on the young lady's face.

Dark blue. As the blood pooled beneath her caramel-hued hair, her lips too were slowly taking on a frightening shade of blue, a sure sign that her breathing was slowing to a life-threatening rate.

Hermione was in dire straits and Draco didn't know what the fuck he was supposed to do.

His immediate instinct was to flee and save himself. He was a Slytherin after all and self-preservation had always been his first and foremost priority.

But seeing her so frail, actually watching her life slowly ebb away, he knew he couldn't simply walk away. Even he wasn't that heartless.

So he now had to save them both, but…how?

If he used his wand to magically summon her, his hold on the loose stones would falter and would immediately fall and crush them both.

If he first sealed the stones in place and then took care of Hermione, she'd surely be dead. Time it would seem, was not on his side.

Glancing at her stricken form, he had to fight hard within himself to stand and stay, the tremendous urge to run itching through his legs.

His magic was dwindling fast as he channeled his remaining energy to hold up the enormous tower and he felt nauseous just looking at the blood that was now inching towards him. He thought he too might pass out on the spot.

He had never been good with blood, hence his rather short and unsuccessful career as a Death Eater.

"It's filth, Draco. Like an animal, they don't deserve your pity," Lucius had barked at his only son when Draco witnessed his first muggle-torturing at their manor.

The copper-like smell of fresh blood, the agonizing screams that echoed around their ancient home, Draco had somehow managed to tune it out and hold onto his sanity during that terrifying time, but only just.

He hadn't know those muggles, whomever they were, and thus was capable of divorcing himself from their painful demise. That was his father's business after all, not his. He couldn't have saved those people even if he had wanted to.

But watching Hermione now, he felt not only horrible pity but also an acute awareness that her fragile life lay in his rather unremarkable and unabashedly incapable hands. What became of her all came down to him. It was a burden he neither wanted nor needed.

And yet here he was. He knew he couldn't just walk away from her, even he had some sense of decency and leaving her to die was unthinkable. So he deliberately chose to stay and try to find some damn way to save them both, if he could.

He drew a deep breath and attempted to consciously split his magical focus, with one part of his mind focusing on holding the stones above in place, while the other part scanned the sealing spell, which now lay crumpled on the floor. Not an easy task for even a seasoned wizard, let alone a young, frightened and exhausted one.

His eyes quickly scanned the complicated incantation but the words, written in an obscure Ancient Greek dialect that he was unfamiliar with, swam before him and he couldn't make heads or tails of it.

As his eyes drifted across the parchment, his wand lowered ever so slightly in distraction and the stones above began to quiver and shimmy loose ever so slightly, causing more dust and fine stone debris to sprinkle down from above as the stones groaned.

His head jerked heavenward at the sound, his eyes wide with pure terror at the thought of being crushed to death.

He immediately tightened and raised his wand, his palms slick with sweat, and focused once more on holding the tower in place.

He had never been very good at splitting his magical focus in school and now was obviously not the time to try and hone that skill.

"Fuck," he softly muttered as his body shook with nerves and sweat poured down his face. He couldn't seal the stones while simultaneously holding them in place, that much was crystal clear. Given how ill, weak and scared shitless he felt, it was an absolute miracle the tower hadn't crumbled atop them already.

His body was giving out and he knew he was running out of time. True, mind-numbing panic was starting to set in as the gravity of the situation hit home.

"HELP!" he cried out, his voice shrill and panicked but it was met with stone silence. With the castle being so sparsely populated and people flung so far and wide on their various jobs, no one was close enough to hear his desperate pleas.

He momentarily thought of sending a patronus for help but that would require incredible magical focus, especially because he had never been able to cast one before. No, that wouldn't do.

His clouded mind raced as he tried desperately to hatch some plan to save them both.

He realized that, perhaps for the very first time in his life, that his magic, severely weakened and ineffectual as it was, couldn't help him now.

No, if they were both going to make it out alive he was going to have to rely on another source and it suddenly dawned on him, exactly who could be of assistance.

"Agnes!" he screamed, his whole body shaking, feeling beyond weak.

Instantly, the small elf appeared by her young master's side, looking at first annoyed, and then quickly changing to shocked as she took in the wobbling tower above and the bleeding woman at her feet.

"Apparate Granger to the infirmary!" Draco barked at the small elf. But Agnes only shook her head in response.

"Humans can not apparate within Hogwarts, only elves," she rasped, her eyes wide with fear at situation she now found herself in.

"Then damnit, Agnes, grab her and pull her into the hallway!" Draco commanded although he could barely keep his voice steady.

Agnes stood rooted to the spot, her eyes narrowed at the bleeding lady prone on the floor. The only emotion stronger than fear in the Malfoy household was hatred and as Agnes stared down at Hermione, she felt that particular feeling in spades.

"Filthy mudblood!" she spat in disgust.

"Now, Agnes!" Draco shouted.

Agnes dutifully clamped her mouth shut and grabbed Hermione by the ankle and roughly began dragging her from the tower, a thick trail of red left in her wake.

As Agnes made the slow trudge to the doorway, a good ten feet away, Draco suddenly felt as though a ton of bricks sat atop his already exhausted shoulders and his body began to dangerously slump.

"Hurry, Agnes! I can't hold the tower much-" he breathed out, his vision blurring and his head spinning.

Agnes pulled harder on the unconscious girl, but the elf's legs were short and could only manage to pull Hermione another two feet before Draco's legs finally gave out.

He collapsed in a heavy heap onto his knees, his wand falling beside him with a gentle clatter. He fell forward onto the stone, his hands bracing his fall as he fought desperately for some much-needed equilibrium.

Breathing deeply, he heard it before he saw it. A horrendous groaning sound like a large animal careening towards him.

He shook his head clear and looked up just in time to see the massive stone tower begin to shake, each piece slowly shifting inward. His pale blue eyes went wide as saucers when the first stone, situated near the top, slipped free and made its swift journey to the floor, falling and smashing into a million pieces a mere foot in front of Draco.

With this, the entire tower seemed to give way and the multitude of stone blocks came crashing inwards, rushing towards the trio.

Summoning strength out of thin-air, Draco somehow managed to leap to his feet and lunge towards the open doorway. He swooped down and roughly grabbed Hermione by her upper arm and Agnes by the scruff of her wrinkled neck and all three of them just managed to make it out the doorway a mere split second before the next stone hit the floor.

Once more, Draco heard and felt, rather than saw the catastrophic destruction just behind them. As the ancient stones crashed around them with a force that shook the walls, the ceiling, the floor beneath their feet, the deafening crash and force threw them all even further out into the adjoining hallway.

The trio landed with a heavy thud as the mountain of stonework crashed down around them in a cacophony of dust, crushed rock and ash.

In his panic, Draco had just managed to throw Agnes out of harms way, she lay a good ten feet ahead of him, panting and gasping on the floor for breath. Her eyes wide with terror and disbelief at the damage that surrounded them, she looked stunned and badly shaken but otherwise unscathed.

Draco landed flat on his chest, just past the doorway. Although he narrowly missed being crushed by several large stones, he had cracked his head hard on the stone floor and felt stunned and dazed by the powerful impact. While everything around him suddenly felt fuzzy and hazy, he could detect a sharp, painful sting in his leg. Something felt stuck in it. He glanced down at it to see a sharp, jagged piece of stained glass lodged deep into the side of his right calf, thick, warm blood oozing out of the gaping wound and dripping onto the floor beneath him.

Through gritted teeth, he roughly rolled over and pulled himself up to a seated position, his head spinning in the process. His eyes could barely focus as he reached forward and grabbed a hold of the thick piece of turquoise glass sticking out of his leg. He drew a shaky breath and quickly pulled it free. A groan of pure agony escaped his parched lips as he tossed the glass aside and a long, deep gash through his calf shined bright red in the sunlight.

"Fuck!" he hissed in anger and pain as the wound gushed profusely and his hands squeezed against the flesh, burning pain searing his whole body.

Lifting his injured, pounding head, gasping for breath, his eyes burning from the dust, he blinked several times and saw the doorway behind them now was completely covered by fallen stone, Ravenclaw tower once more a haphazard pile of crushed stone. Were it not for the stone archway holding back the ton of fallen debris, the trio would've been crushed to death.

"Master, you're hurt!" Agnes exclaimed, rushing to aid Draco.

Agnes looked around in desperation and scurried off to a near by window, roughly ripping a large tapestry at the base and returning with the fabric clutched in her small, dirty hands.

Working quickly, she wound the rough fabric tight around the gaping wound to staunch the considerable flow of blood. Tying a tight knot with it, Draco groaned in agony but at least the blood flow had lessened.

"Master must go to the infirmary, at once!" Agnes pleaded.

As he went to stand, he glanced to his right and beside him lay Hermione, facedown on the stone floor. She was still bleeding and unconscious, and to add to his considerable troubles, she was now pinned beneath several large stones, one crushing her legs and another resting atop her back and right arm.

The sight helped to quickly clear his mind and he focused once more on his injured partner.

Draco roughly hauled himself up and off the floor, his leg throbbing and his right arm hanging limp by his side as he gracelessly stumbled to Hermione's side.

From her stricken posture, he couldn't tell if she was alive or dead. He was too afraid to check and find out.

"Apparate ahead to the infirmary and tell Pomfrey that Hermione is hurt!" Draco commanded of his elf, his voice high-pitched with anguish and fear.

"But, Master, you're hurt! Forget that filth!" Agnes spat, looking indignant.

"GO, NOW!" he bellowed as he roughly lifted the heavy stone from Hermione's legs, his panic and fear grabbing hold of him as he rushed to try and free her trapped body.

With a smart click of her fingers, Agnes apparated, looking irritated with her orders as she cast a rather disgusted and disappointed look at her young master.

The stone atop Hermione's back and arm was much larger and heavier and Draco just barely managed to shove the blasted thing off of her back as he panted for sweet breath.

Laying on all fours, his hands cut and bruised, his leg bleeding badly and his head pounding from the crash, Draco knelt beside her, pushed her damp locks off her bloodied face and ran his fingers along her pale neck, hoping for a miracle.

A weak thready pulse thrummed there, just beneath his filthy fingers. But it was soft and faint, barely even there and once more he knew time was not on his side.

He breathed again as he carefully rolled her onto her back, tucked his aching, weakened arms beneath her back and legs and hoisted her up off the floor with a heavy, painful groan.

Finding his footing on tired, shaky legs and nestling his old enemy tight against his chest he looked down to see her face, bloodied and pale.

Despite the many years of taunts, threats and cruelty he had shown the young Gryffindor, this was never a sight he had wanted to see. He felt a viscous terror grip him like none he had ever felt before. He silently prayed for enough strength, for enough time, for enough luck.

"C'mon, Granger. Let's get you out of here," he said, the quaver in his voice apparent as he quickly set off for the infirmary.

 _~~~~0000~~~~_

Although his shirt was now drenched with sweat and his skin warm from the steady beat of the high sun, Severus suddenly felt the most peculiar chill grip him as he trudged beside Potter back towards the castle. They had completed the restoration on Albus' grave only a few minutes ago and were heading back across the long, sloping lawn when the strange fear washed over him.

He halted at the clammy, cold queasiness that inexplicably churned in his gut and he instinctively knew something was wrong.

"What's wrong, sir?" Harry asked as he took in his professor's sudden halt.

"I'm not entirely sure...but I think, no...I _feel_ as if something is amiss. Quickly, to the castle," Severus uttered as he eyed the castle warily.

Harry looked worried at the sudden change but didn't disagree.

The pair set off at a much more brisk pace as Harry had to jog in order to keep up with his taller companion.

As they reached the base of the long stone steps, the pair heard a tremendous crash coming from their right that shook the very ground beneath them.

A large plume of dust bellowed into the blue sky, exactly where the Ravenclaw tower should have stood.

"I think that was Ravenclaw tower! Hermione and Draco are working there today!" Harry gasped as his terrified eyes met Severus'.

The pair froze for but a split second as pure fear settled deep within them.

Not another word was exchanged as the pair quickly hustled up the long front stairs, quickly vaulting over missing steps and charging into the front hall.

As they raced through the entrance hall, they were met with a sobering sight.

Draco was hobbling towards them, trying to run from the looks of it, but failing miserably. He was also bloodied and covered in dirt. And in his thin, shaky arms lay Hermione, her small body perfectly still and deathly pale.

"Help," he weakly called out as he fell to his knees, still clutching Hermione tightly in his arms.

"Draco! What happened!?" Harry exclaimed as he and Snape ran and came to a halt before the injured pair, immediately falling to their knees in unison.

"She's been...hurt! I can't carry her anymore," Draco breathed out as he cradled Hermione against his chest, resting back on his knees and injured leg after the long, painful run across the castle.

"Where's she hurt?!" Harry demanded, as his hands roamed over her body looking for the source of the bleeding.

"Her head is.. bleeding, and her arm and leg...are probably...broken," he uttered, his voice hoarse and tired, his words barely louder than whisper.

Harry pulled his wand and tried to seal the cut along her scalp. As his magic suffused her, the bleeding there stopping for the most part _,_ but it certainly wasn't the best job and blood still oozed along the barely-sealed edges.

Seeing her so gravely injured stirred a fury and anguish within Harry as his eyes narrowed dangerously at the young Slytherin.

"Did you hurt her?" Harry growled as he eyed Draco with pure venom.

"No, I-" Draco started but was cut off.

"Did you harm her!?" Harry yelled as he grabbed Draco's shirt and roughly shook him, jostling Hermione in the process.

"No!" Draco shouted, finally finding his voice. "We were working in Ravenclaw Tower. Had all of the bricks up when she suddenly got dizzy and fell, cracked her head. I couldn't hold it all up alone and the stonework crumbled around us. I got her here as fast as I could!" Draco yelled, his own eyes wide with indignation.

The shouting should've shook Severus out of his stupor but it didn't. He had been kneeling beside the young men, listening to them argue, but he couldn't really hear them at all. For he was too stunned and paralyzed to hear, all he could take in was the sight of her.

Motionless, pale, hurt. Her bloodied hair took on an almost reddened sheen and he was immediately throw back to that night. The night he hated to remember and yet could never forget. He could feel it all once more, the memory crashing atop him and smothering him, springing to life before his very eyes.

The feeling of her limp lifeless body in his arms as he gently cradled her.

Her son wailing in his crib, the tears spilling effortlessly from his kind, green eyes.

Her soft, red hair and pale, freckled skin still warm to the touch although her heart had long since stoped beating.

 _Lily_.

As Harry threatened many an unpleasant curse and Draco tried to defend himself, there was Severus, frozen and painfully trapped between the past and the present. He just knelt there, stunned as he watched Hermione slipping away, his whole body trembling.

 _This is happening again. I'm going to lose her, just like Lily._

He might have stayed just like that indefinitely, lost in that helpless feeling forever had his eyes not caught sight of Miss Granger's hand twitching. The small movement, her delicate fingers curling in towards her palm, brought him back to the reality that she wasn't dead, at least, not yet. He could still save her but he had to act fast.

Snapping suddenly out of his trance, Severus leaned forward and gently pulled her from Draco's arms, his eyes as wide as tea saucers, his own face now ghostly white but set with fierce determination.

Nestling her tight against his chest, her blood immediately soaked through his white shirt. The warmth of it as it trickled down his arm and chest caused his skin to break out in a icy cold sweat.

"Potter, heal Draco's leg and follow me to the infirmary when you both are able," Severus commanded before standing in a single fluid motion, his cane long forgotten on the stone floor. He turned and swiftly set off towards the infirmary, not bothering to wait for a reply.

"But sir, you're not strong enough to carry her! You can't make it alone!" Harry called out but Severus ignored the words and merely ran with all his might, finding a strength, long dormant within him flare to life as he held the young woman in his arms.

Any pain or ache he had felt just moments ago was now banished as his body and spirit focused all of his energy on one, single goal: saving her.

He would get her to the infirmary, he would save her.

He simply had to.

His heart would neither entertain nor allow for any other option.

* * *

***Full credit to **_Marcella Dix_** for the inspiration of splitting one's consciousness to focus your mind and magic on two different endeavors. Her story "Accommodations" explores conscious magic and magical abilities in ways I could never even hope to capture. Check it out :) Her concept was employed here with her full knowledge and permission.

Thanks for reading! Take care :)


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: THANK YOU, all of you beautiful lovelies who have followed, favorited and commented. Your vote of confidence is greatly appreciated :) Much love and Happy Tuesday!**

* * *

 _I was never insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched._

 _-Edgar Allan Poe_

Severus clutched Hermione tight as his long legs, suddenly suffused with powerful strength, began to sprint up the tall, winding stairs. His whole body ignited from the heady rush of incredible adrenaline and purpose.

She laid perfectly still in his arms. Were it not for the blood painted upon her cheek and her lips turning slightly blue, she would have looked for all the world to simply be asleep.

"Stay with me. You're going to be just fine. Please, please, Miss Granger, please just stay with me!" he half-commanded, half-begged, his voice soft, gentle even, and tainted with a unexpected desperate edge.

She moaned softly at the sound of his voice, her brow creasing slightly from deep within her slumber. This made his heart soar with incredible, terrifying joy.

"Yes, that's right! I'm here, you're safe! Everything will be just fine. Just hang on, you must hang on for me," he softly pleaded, clutching her with all his might as he ran even faster.

As he reached the top of the staircase of the third floor, Remus and Sirius came tearing around the corner, both looking worried.

"Severus! What's happened?! We heard a huge crash!" Sirius called but as the marauders caught sight of Hermione they both blanched and halted.

"Miss Granger was badly injured while working, she needs the infirmary!" Severus exclaimed as he brushed past the pair, still running at top speed.

Remus and Sirius gasped at their young friend laying motionless in the potion master's arms. And both quickly fell into stride beside Severus each looking shocked and upset.

"How did this happen?!" Remus demanded, his breath coming out in gasps as he ran.

"She was working with Draco….the tower fell…hurt them both," Severus answered, his eyes trained straight ahead and focused.

"Will she be alright?!" Sirius asked, although no one in the present company could answer that with any certainty.

Silence hung heavy. Only the sound of three pairs of shoes running in unison, tapping fast and furious against the stone could be heard.

As they approached the last stair case, Severus halted but a second to catch his breath as he started up the stairs. But before he could get very far, Sirius tried to pull him to a stop.

"Severus, you're getting tired, let me carry her! You're still healing!" Sirius begged, looking wild with worry.

Severus could only vaguely register the plea as he only clung tighter still to Hermione and sprinted up the last flight of stairs toward the infirmary. The words reached him as though from a million miles away. In truth he could barely hear anything above the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

He focused on running and the still woman in his arms, holding her so tightly, so snug against his chest he thought he might crush her with the pressure. But he couldn't loosen his hold, feeling her body tight against his was the only thing giving him any hope at the moment.

No. She was his alone to carry, his alone to save.

As the trio finally made it to the fourth floor, they were met by an odd pair: Agnes, rushing out of the infirmary and down the hallway away from the them, presumably to fetch her mistress. Beside her was a panic-stricken Poppy, rushing towards them, looking worried yet determined and ready to help.

"Severus! The Malfoy's elf just told me what happened! Quickly! Let me have her and we'll get her into a bed!" Poppy barked as she pointed her wand at Hermione to levitate her out of Severus' sure grasp, but the determined man would have none of it. The command only caused him to hold on tighter, clutching the woman with an iron-grip as he quickly brushed past the mediwitch.

"I have her, out of my way!" he bellowed, his mouth set in a firm line.

He swept past the stunned witch and kicked the door to the infirmary open with his dragonhide boots, not waiting on anyone. He had to save her, he simply had to.

Laying her gently down upon the nearest empty bed, he swiftly brandished his wand and began to heal the most egregious of her wounds while Poppy, Sirius and Remus burst through the doors after him, rushing forward to help.

As his wand slowly traveled the length of her body, ascertaining the extent of her internal injuries, Poppy approached, looking stern.

"Severus, move! Let me do my work," Poppy barked as she appeared by his side and tried in vain to shove him out of the way.

But he could barely hear the words, or feel her hands upon him trying to pry him from the young girl's bedside. He could only see red and feel her cold skin beneath his hands.

"No. I'll mend the internal bleeding myself..." he bit out, his eyes focused on Hermione.

"Severus Snape, move now! You are not a healer!" Poppy yelled as she moved around the bed but he only worked on, trying to prioritize which of the various injuries needed tending to first. There were so many, he hardly knew where to begin.

"Severus! Let Poppy do it, she's trained!" begged Remus as he approached the bed and pulled Severus with a firm grip but Severus only shoved him aside as if he weighed nothing at all.

"No," Severus growled without turning from her, "I'm not leaving her."

His hands were shaking now as he tried to categorize all the injuries and decide what to fix first. Each part of her seemed broken and all the cuts, breaks and bruises seemed to blend together into a terrifying, insurmountable thing that left him paralyzed and overwhelmed.

 _The punctured lung? No. The skull fracture and laceration? That can wait! What about her pulse?! Certainly that comes first! What about the broken bones!?_

The more he thought, the more upset and unraveled he became. His usual sharp mind halted and he couldn't figure out what he should do first. Unsure and frightened, he began reciting every healing spell he could recall as his wand began to frantically move across her body, each spell falling from his lips without much rhyme or reason.

"Stop, Severus! You're just going to hurt her!" Remus pleaded.

"Severus, please!" wailed Poppy, her faithful wand clutched tight in her hands, itching to be used.

Sirius was the only one to understand as he stepped towards him and stood beside Severus, putting a firm hand to his shoulder.

"Severus…Severus," Sirius said softly, "Poppy will heal her. Please…move back just a bit so she can work. You don't want to be in the way," Sirius gently pointed out, fighting to stay calm himself as he watched Hermione lying motionless on the bed.

Severus let out a breath as the words penetrated his thick, confusing thoughts. Black was right, he needed to move back if he wanted her to survive. Poppy was the only one who could heal her, much that he hated to admit it.

He reluctantly allowed Sirius' strong hands to pull him back, his whole body and soul fighting the movement.

Poppy stepped forward and quickly set to work on the young, unconscious woman, her wand movements a blur of precise swishes and strokes across Hermione's rigid body.

The three men stood a silent guard at the end of the bed, each of their gazes fixed on Poppy's wandwork. After a few minutes of running diagnostics and sealing the deep gash at the back of her head, Poppy stood, wiping her bloody hands on her apron and offered a worried sigh.

"Her breathing has improved slightly and the scull laceration is sealed properly now but the internal bleeding is worrisome," she frowned as she quickly crossed to her medicine cabinet to fetch more vials.

"What about the broken bones?" asked Remus, his voice low, his face pained and worried as he paced beside the bed.

"They are the least of my worries right now," Poppy answered as she returned once more to her patient.

Several long minutes ticked by with Hermione growing more and more pale. By now, Severus was gripping the foot of the bed so tightly, his knuckles had gone pure white. He was going near mad from not being allowed to help.

"Her respiration rate is low," Severus noted, his jaw set tight, his eyes wide to the point of all black as he watched her frail body barely move with each shallow breath she drew.

"I know, Severus," Poppy replied as a new incantation poured from her wand, trying hard to focus.

"And her heart rate is dropping," Severus snapped, his rage barely held back.

"Yes, I know," Poppy volleyed back, no longer bothering to hide her own anger.

"Well then, fix her, damnit!" Severus roared.

"I'm trying, Severus! The internal bleeding is still present, it's not sealing as it should. If I don't fix that…" Poppy trailed off, letting the unspoken words hang there like a unwelcome guest.

"Damnit, Poppy! Hurry!" Severus yelled once more.

"That's it! Get out! I can't work with you in here!" Poppy tossed back, her usual kind eyes now hard and sharp.

"Absolutely not! Not while you don't know what the hell you're doing!" Severus growled, his body rigidly squared against Poppy's and refusing to budge.

Remus and Sirius shared a knowing look at this as the pair stepped forward and each grabbed a tight hold of Severus and pulled him away from the bedside, thus allowing Poppy to finally work in peace.

"Let me go! Unhand me, right fucking NOW!" Severus bellowed as the pair hauled him into the deserted hallway and shoved the heavy doors shut with a firm thud.

"Let me go! I can fix her!" Severus raged as he pulled hard against his new friends.

He had to fix her. He had to make sure she would survive. Couldn't they understand that?

"Severus, no! Poppy can do it. You need to let her," Remus implored holding tight to Severus who was still struggling and flailing.

But this only enraged the man more. Working hard against both men, Severus finally managed to elbow Sirius in the groin and punch Remus hard enough in the face so as to momentarily stun the pair into dropping their hold on him.

Free of his captors, he tried to sprint forward once more towards the door, but Sirius was faster and grabbed him by the shirt collar. They struggled against eachother for but a moment as Sirius wrestled him quickly to the floor, sat atop him and pinned both of his hands to the ground.

"Get the fuck off me! I have to FIX HER!" Severus roared with all his might, his eyes wide with panic, struggling to throw Sirius aside.

"You can't be in there right now!" Sirius stated firmly, using all his weight to hold the other man flat.

"Black, get off me this instant or so help me, I'll-"

"You can't be in there because you care too much!" Sirius barked, as he wrestled the surprisingly strong man beneath him, his mouth set in a firm line.

Severus looked shocked at this, his usual quick retort dying in his throat, his violent thrashing come to a halt as the words truly hit him.

 _You care too much._

Sirius was right. Severus did care for the girl, far more than he had realized until this very moment.

As Severus' body went slack beneath him, Sirius' face softened then and his eyes gave away his own anguish and fear.

"Severus," Sirius said low and firm, his own eyes boring into his friend's with such a profound understanding. "Poppy will fix her, do you hear me? But you have to give her some space and you have to let her work. Calm down," he commanded.

Severus' black eyes bored into Sirius' with a raw, unbridled anger and frustration. The urge to punch him square in the jaw rushed through Severus like a wildfire, if only his hands were free.

Sirius could sense the other's man rage, could feel it radiating through his skin. But Sirius just calmly looked back, holding him in place.

"You barking at Poppy will not heal Hermione any faster. We have to wait."

Severus closed his eyes in resignation at this and finally stopped struggling.

Sirius released his hands and Severus immediately shoved him aside, a look of pure anger crossing his face.

Sirius didn't say another word as he stood and waited with a subdued, quiet Remus, who now sported a nice black eye, courtesy of Severus' outburst. The pair waited beside the infirmary doors just in case Severus tried once again to enter.

Severus sneered and stalked off down the hallway, his fists balled in rage. He felt impotent and useless, standing around in a hallway while the woman who saved his life slowly bled to death a room away. The feeling swirled through him, dangerously building and bubbling within him like hot magma; volatile, unpredictable, utterly overwhelming.

She could die.

The woman who risked everything for him could leave this world today and he couldn't do a single thing to stop it.

It was all too much for him. Too frightening and terrifyingly real a thing to take in.

As he stalked past a large bay window overlooking the lake, he felt all his fear, his hope, his anger burst through his chest and he lost what precious little control he did have.

His fist, clenched iron-tight with his fingernails digging painfully into his palm, pulled back and swung hard, crashing with amazing force through the window pane.

Remus and Sirius both jumped at the deafening smash but neither said a word, only stared with wide, shocked eyes.

His heaving breath and the searing pain in his hand brought Severus back and grounded his shaking body to the here and now. Glittering shards danced across the floor and littered the overgrown courtyard below. His heart still pounding in his ears, he glanced down to see his fist bleeding, the thin skin shredded and raw.

He let out a shaky breath of pure release at the sight.

He rested his hands against the window frame and stared out at the warm sunlit grounds, feeling dazed and exhausted, his body gently swaying and shaking.

After a long moment of silence, Remus appeared beside him and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Just try and breathe," Severus. Let's just wait, alright?" Remus offered softly.

"I need to be with her," Severus bit out, looking pained and trapped.

Remus gave a mournful, knowing look to Sirius who now stood beside them, one that was not lost on Severus. He quickly recovered himself and said in a more collected tone, "She saved my life, I have to save hers."

"We all care for her, Severus. And she's going to pull through. She will," Sirius said confidently although he looked just as shaken and unsure as the other men before him.

Painfully long minutes ticked by as the three men waited in silence.

Sirius repaired the broken window and Remus healed Severus' hand as best he could. Severus gave a soft "thank you," as he stared expectantly at the closed infirmary doors.

Remus raised his wand at Severus' chest and said softly, "I'm just going to clean the blood off your shirt."

But Severus grabbed his wand hand tightly and gave a simple, "No...leave it."

Remus offered a sad smile and nodded. He didn't argue.

The air hung heavy with tension as Agnes returned once more, shuffling quickly down the hall towards the trio with a petrified-looking Narcissa in her clutches.

Eying the blood on Severus' shirt, Narcissa halted and nearly buckled from shock.

"Severus, where's Draco?! Is he-" her words broke off as a choked sob escaped her lips and tears reddened her eyes.

Severus' silent vigil was momentarily broken at the sight. He stepped forward to hold his old friend and reassure her. But no sooner had he done this, Harry and Draco rounded the corner at the opposite end of the hall, the pair walking quite slowly as Draco had his arm slung across Harry's shoulder with the Gryffindor bearing most of the weight.

"Draco!" Narcissa shrieked as she rushed towards her son, relief clear in her voice. Clutching her son in a bruising hug, Draco groaned slightly from the force of her embrace.

"Easy, mother. My chest hurts a bit," he uttered softly, looking frail and weak as Harry held him upright.

She released her tight hold on him but stayed close, smiling slightly through her tears at her only son.

"You worried me," she said tearfully, her voice trembling as she gently cupped his face.

Narcissa, along with Harry, helped settle Draco onto a bench beneath a tall window to allow him a bit of rest after the long trek across the castle. She sat down beside her son and tenderly held his hand.

"Thanks, Potter," Draco breathed out as he sat down.

"It's alright," Harry offered with a small smile and simple nod. Turning to his godfather, Harry said, "How's Hermione?"

"We don't know yet. Poppy's still working on her," Remus replied, looking haggard and spent.

"Draco, how did this happened?" Narcissa insisted, taking in the sight of her son's torn trousers and dried blood along his leg.

"Yes, Draco, do tell us," Sirius asked, stepping forward with narrowed eyes, his voice suddenly ice-cold, "what exactly did happen to cause this accident?"

"Hermione became weak and collapsed. I couldn't hold the tower on my own and it fell. I got us out just in time-" Draco began but Sirius was too distraught to take in his words.

"Did you hurt her?" Sirius growled, his voice low and threatening. "Did you let this happen to her on purpose?!" he demanded, stepping closer and looming over the younger man with a look of pure rage on his rugged face.

"Of course not!" Draco spat, looking affronted and not-a-small-bit terrified.

"Sirius, no! He saved her!" Harry spoke up, "She'd have died were it not for Draco getting her out before the stones fell."

Sirius eyed his godson with a good measure of disbelief before scoffing.

"I don't believe it," Sirius said with a stony expression.

"It's true," Harry protested. "We saw him carrying Hermione even though he could barely stand. Isn't that right, Professor?" Harry called out, acknowledging Severus.

Severus gave a nod at this, "It's true, he did save her."

"It can't be," Sirius spat. "This one's as rotten as his father. Not a selfless bone in his body," Sirius said, holding Narcissa's gaze as much as Draco's.

Narcissa was immediately on her feet and stood right before Sirius, their faces a mere foot apart.

"Don't you dare speak to my son that way!" she hissed. "If the Potter boy says-"

"His name is Harry and he's my family if you don't mind, not some stranger!" Sirius yelled. "Stop addressing him as if you don't know that!" he snapped at his cousin, his fists balled tight at his sides.

Narcissa merely stepped closer and met him with equal fire, as if he were a stranger even though the same blood ran through their veins.

"And Draco is my family if you recall, so I would greatly appreciate it if you would stop accusing him! You heard it straight from your _godson_ ," she sneered. "He saved that girl. Were it not for him, she'd already be dead!"

Her words had their intended effect. Everyone gasped and Sirius looked on the verge of murder when Remus wisely stepped in.

"We're all a bit upset and on edge," Remus offered, fighting for a calm, even tone. "This is neither the time nor the place to be pointing fingers. Why don't we all have a seat and calm down."

Sirius eyed Draco warily then, his jaw set tight with pent-up rage.

"You really saved her?" Sirius asked, his mind and mouth slowly catching up to one another.

Draco was silent a minute, all eyes on him.

"As best I could, yes," Draco answered somberly, all of his usual sneer and bite completely absent.

Sirius let out a heavy sigh, his eyes averted from the young man as he pondered this a moment. He shook his head in pure bewilderment that his cousin's son could actually be capable of kindness, consideration and bravery. Maybe the boy wasn't all bad. The house of Black had been known from time to time to produce a decent human being and maybe Draco was one of them.

He swallowed his pride then and eyed Draco once more, noticing for the first time that he too had been severely injured in the accident. His countenance softened ever so lightly.

"I guess you're less like your father than I thought," Sirius offered as his eyes caught Draco's and then Narcissa's.

Draco frowned slightly at this, "I should hope so," he muttered softly.

"C'mon, Sirius," Remus gently commanded as he pulled the man from his cousin.

Narcissa sat once more and immediately started fussing over Draco, trying to magically mend his split pants and cleanse the gash on his arm but Draco only shrugged off the attention.

"I'm fine, mother," he answered rather shortly, clearing preferring to be left alone.

Narcissa's face fell at this but Severus stepped forward then and motioned for Narcissa to join him by the window.

She reluctantly stood and gave her son the space he seemed to be craving.

"He's suffered minor injuries, he'll recover just fine," Severus offered in hushed tones as the elegant woman stood beside him.

"Agnes told me how bad it was. He could've-" she broke off, not having the strength to finish the thought.

Narcissa bit her lip and stared out at the grounds, her whole body starting to shake. She tried to hold it all in but soon found the hot tears spilling down her cheeks. She hated to cry in public, hated the very notion that others might see her as weak or vulnerable. But she found she could not stop it this time. She dissolved into a fit of fresh tears and threw herself into Severus' arms, clinging to him like a lost child while she quietly wept. He held her and pulled her aside, comforting her as best as he could. But in truth his eyes never left that old oaken door, for the woman in his arms was not the woman he longed to comfort at that moment.

As Narcissa wept, Severus worried, Sirius and Remus paced, and Harry bent over to check on Draco's hastily-mended leg, Neville arrived just then. Having run from the greenhouses, he was already sweating and out of breath.

"What's happened?!" He exclaimed as he caught sight of Draco injured, Narcissa crying, and the assembled crowd looking forlornly at the infirmary door.

Harry stepped forward and motioned for Neville to join him beside Draco on the bench, so they could speak in a bit of relative privacy while the adults had a moment to collect themselves.

"Hermione fainted while she and Draco were building Ravenclaw tower, she cracked her head. The stones weren't sealed yet and they fell on them both. A few falling stones broke her arm, leg and punctured her right lung," Harry told his fellow Gryffindor who stared with wide, shocked eyes.

"But, how? Draco, how did this happen?" Neville asked, looking so dumbfounded as he heard the stunning events.

"I honestly don't know. It happened so fast. One minute we were working, the next she was passed out cold," Draco offered, shaking his head in confusion. "It's hard to describe. But our magic just kind of faltered. I couldn't hold the spell and neither could she," Draco sheepishly admitted, his eyes cast shamefully to the floor.

"Our incantation failed," Draco offered morosely. "I failed."

"That's not a failure," Neville consoled him, kneeling down to catch his averted gaze. "You're a dab hand at spellwork, I'm sure you were trying your best."

Draco only shook his head at the kindness he was surprisingly receiving from the most unlikely of sources.

"You don't need to say that," Draco bit out. "It turns out, I'm not much good at anything."

"You're being too hard on yourself," Harry offered.

"No, it's the opposite actually. I've been far too easy on myself," he said as realization hit him, his eyes moving between his distraught, frail mother and the closed infirmary doors.

"I'm sorry about my attitude yesterday, Longbottom," he offered rather gently, his eyes red with tears. "I was...out of line, assuming it was your fault the spell didn't work. Clearly my own magic and spell work is... _lacking_ at the moment," he said with a soft, rueful laugh.

"It's alright. You didn't know," Neville said thoughtfully.

"Well, now I do and I'm sorry," Draco offered sincerely.

Both Harry and Neville smiled a bit at this.

"I forgive you. Thank you for taking care of Hermione," Neville offered earnestly.

"Yeah, I did a bang up job, didn't I?" Draco sneered, "I don't know why I didn't think to stop the bleeding first. I saw all the blood and I just panicked."

"You saved her. You got her here in time for treatment. That's what matters," Harry said sincerely.

"We'll see about that," he uttered somberly.

Silence hung there a moment, all three knowing that Hermione was in far worse condition than they liked to admit. Harry excused himself to check on Sirius, who by now was crawling the walls from anxiety. That left just Neville and Draco, sharing a stone bench and an awkward bit of silence.

"You've got a nasty gash above your brow," Neville noted, gesturing to side of Draco's head.

Draco reached up to absentmindedly rub at the wound, which he truthfully hadn't even noticed until Neville pointed it out. But as he pulled his hand away he saw his fingers now coated in warm blood and blanched at the sight, he never had been very good around blood.

"Fuck," Draco muttered softly, reaching for his wand which he usually stowed in his back pocket. But as he reached for it, he realized it was no longer there. In the rush and panic, he had dropped it in the ruins of the tower.

"No wand?" Neville asked.

Draco shook his head sadly.

"I must've dropped it in the tower. I'll…I'll go and get it now," Draco replied as he went to stand but a firm hand from Neville stopped him.

"You're in no condition to walk that far right now. I'll fetch it for you later. For now, let me fix this cut and then you can rest."

Before Draco could even protest, Neville brandished his wand and carefully, slowly ran it over the deep gash. Draco once more hissed at the pain of the flesh knitting itself back together but breathed a deep sigh of relief as it closed.

"Anything else hurt?" Neville asked as Draco breathed a sigh of relief.

"No, Harry healed my leg earlier. I think that's it."

"Well, I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will give you a good lookover in a bit. Just rest now. I'm going to Ravenclaw tower and check to make sure the stone work won't crumble any further and cause a danger to anyone near by. I'll shore up the surrounding structure and return in a bit. I'll get your wand back, too," Neville offered with a smile as he stood to leave.

"Neville," Draco called out which caused the young Gryffindor to turn in surprise.

"Thanks," Draco said, looking sincere.

Neville smirked at this and offered a nod.

"Not a problem," he replied with a smile as he disappeared back down the hall and out of sight.

It wasn't long before Filius, Aurora, Sybil, Argus and Hagrid, along with many house elves all started to appear in the hallway, having all heard the commotion and came running. Each had questions and before long the hall was abuzz with noise and raised voices.

"But how did this happen?!"

"The whole tower fell!?"

"How did they even make it out?"

"Hermione? Will she be alright?"

Remus and Sirius answered as many questions as they were able to and retold the story multiple times for each new arrival but Severus ignored them all, staring mutely at the infirmary doors, wishing them to open and allow him admittance.

Finally, after an interminable fifteen minutes of waiting with no word, the doors burst open and Poppy appeared there, looking stern but calm.

"The bleeding has finally stopped which is a good sign but she still isn't out of the woods yet."

"May we see her?" Sirius asked.

"I'm still working, perhaps in a hour or two-" Poppy began but was cut short.

Severus, unable to take the waiting any longer, pushed past her and swept into the room, an apologetic Remus and Sirius following in his wake.

With a long suffering sigh, Poppy allowed it

"Mr. Potter, kindly help Mr. Malfoy into the infirmary," Poppy wearily asked. She also allowed Narcissa to join but kindly asked that the remaining group, including Agnes, the angry house elf, to wait in the hallway for an update.

Draco, with his mother glued to his hip, was deposited in a bed opposite Hermione and the whole room went quiet with Severus leading the way to Hermione's bedside.

Her dirty, blood-stained and torn clothing had been removed and now she was clad in a white standard infirmary gown, one that Severus had worn for several weeks while he healed. Poppy had also covered her in a crisp white sheet to offer her some modesty and privacy. Her wild hair fanning around her delicate face, surrounded in all white and deep asleep, Severus couldn't help but notice she looked almost angelic.

He wordlessly approached her bed and immediately, instinctively took hold of her hand. It was warmer now and her skin a bit more pink, both good signs. Something about it soothed him, deep inside. He felt relief and warmth flood him as he watched her breath more easily.

Remus, Sirius and Harry all approached the bed, too, eager to see her still alive and somewhat well. Sirius flanked the other side and took her free hand in his, smiling as he did so.

Although she looked a bit better, Severus noted with some worry though that her arm was still broken, badly by the looks of it, as was her leg.

"Poppy, why have you not healed her arm yet?" he asked sharply as the mediwitch approached with a blanket and more vials of potions.

"Her body is too fragile and weak for anymore spellwork today. It took a great deal of magical energy to heal her lung and internal injuries. Anymore spells today could only weaken her further. The bone can be mended but with a potion instead and she needs to be awake to imbibe it," she answered looking exhausted, dried blood coating her apron.

Severus nodded and reluctantly released her hand. Sirius stepped away as well to allow Poppy room to work once more.

Pointing her wand at the young woman, Poppy called out, " _Reneverate_!" and Hermione awoke suddenly with a gasp, her eyes wide with pain and confusion.

"What...what happened?" she stammered, looking frightened as her eyes scanned the room to see her many friends all looking worried.

"You passed out while you were working and cracked your head. A stone pinned you to the ground. Draco was able to get you out and Severus carried you here but your lung collapsed and both your arm and leg are broken," Poppy offered succinctly as she leaned over the bed to check Hermione's temperature and vitals.

Between the pounding in her head, the pain from her broken bones and the shock of it all, Hermione's stomach churned violently as her face blanched.

"Oh, god, I think I'm going to be sick," Hermione gasped, her face turning a sour shade of green.

Heaving her head off to the side, she wretched repeatedly over her bed and emptied her rather meager breakfast onto the stone floor. Severus immediately stepped forward to hold her hair back and shield her from the on-lookers. He wordlessly vanished the mess as she laid her head back down, her whole body shaking.

"That's a good girl," Poppy said, smiling sympathetically while pressing a cold wet, cloth to her head.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Hermione softly cried as tears of pain and embarrassment escaped her tired eyes.

"Don't worry about it, love. We're just glad you're alright," Sirius said warmly, stepping forward and smiling gently as he took her other hand.

She offered a weak smile but groaned suddenly when she tried to move.

"My arm hurts," she moaned, her face contorting in pain.

"Yes, dear, it's broken," Poppy helpfully reminded her. "I can give you a fracture potion to heal it but you'll need to keep it all down. Are you done throwing up?"

"I...I think so," Hermione offered weakly.

"Good, drink the whole vail," Poppy offered kindly. Hermione slowly drained it.

"You're going to feel quite weak, for a while. The bone will be healed here shortly but you need rest to fully recuperate," Poppy said as she handed over two more vials, Hermione immediately recognized them as a pain potion and a sleeping aid.

She shook her head at the sight.

"No, Madam Pomfrey, please, I want to stay awake. Why did this happen? Why did I fall in the first place? What's wrong with me?" Hermione asked, looking panicked and desperate for answers.

Poppy glanced at Severus, Sirius and Remus and all exchanged unsure looks.

"Dear, it was most likely exhaustion. We'll have to run more diagnostics to nail a precise cause. No need worrying about it now. It's best if you rest," Poppy admonished as she pressed the potions once more upon her.

Hermione sighed as she reluctantly took the vials and drank deeply. She immediately felt them flood her body with relief as she leaned against the bed and her body went slack.

"Rest now, Kitten. It's gonna be alright," Sirius said with a smile as he leaned forward and gave her a sweet kiss on her forehead.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Professor Snape, standing aside, his shirt covered in dried blood and his whole face open and unguarded in a way she had never seen before. She offered him a small smile as her eyes grew heavy.

"Thank you, sir," she murmured.

He gave a small nod, almost imperceptible, as she settled her heavy head onto her pillow.

As sleep pulled at her, she looked past her group of concerned friends, all huddled around her protectively, and noticed Draco for the first time. He was laying in a bed directly across from her, his face pale, bloodied and full of anguish. Before he could stop himself he mouthed the words, "I'm sorry," as hot tears spilled from his aching eyes.

She offered a soft smile at him, as everyone talked around her, and shook her head slightly. She mouthed back a sincere,"Thank you." He gave a slight, silent nod as he roughly wiped away his tears.

With that, she finally succumbed and slipped back into a deep sleep.

McGonagall bustled in then, cane in hand as her robes billowed in her wake, her face betraying pure panic.

"Poppy, what's happened?"

As Poppy still had an irate Narcissa breathing down her neck and an injured Draco to heal, Severus pulled Minerva aside and he, along with Remus, Sirius and Harry relayed the terrifying and perplexing events of the day.

"I feel just terrible," Minerva said with a sad shake of her head. "After I told everyone this very morning to work their hardest and Hermione pushed herself too hard and injured herself, this is my fault."

"Minerva, don't be so quick to blame yourself. This may not be a simple issue of exhaustion," Severus replied.

"Why would you think that, Severus?" Minerva asked, looking genuinely confused. "What else could it possibly be?"

"Several factors lead me to believe this is not a simple case of overworking," Severus uttered in a hushed tone. "You're still ill, Minerva. I've healed rather slowly, Hermione fainted, Longbotttom couldn't seal the glass yesterday, and Draco couldn't cast the incantation today. This shouldn't be happening. Something is happening to us all, a considerable amount of magical energy has been lost somehow and I'm just not sure what's causing it."

"What could it possibly be?" Harry asked.

"Could Voldemort's death have left a dark, indelible mark? A lasting evil here at the castle?" Sirius asked, looking thoroughly confused.

"Perhaps a curse? Or a poison of some kind? He could've had a Death Eater leave any manner of poison around the castle during the last battle," Remus piped up.

"All of those are possibilities," Severus admitted. "Until I can research this further and rule out a few theories, nothing is off the table," Severus replied in hushed tones as he watched her sleeping peacefully.

"Well, where do we start?" asked Harry. "What's the easiest to rule out first?"

"Poison would be easiest to detect, right, Severus?" Remus asked.

"Yes, but I highly doubt it's poison. Had it been planted by a Death Eater at the last battle, for instance in the castle's water supply, the poison would've quickly lost its potency. I can't imagine it still having an effect should it have been employed. Also, should the dark lord had wanted to poison a large group of people, he would've needed a skilled brewer and he typically entrusted me with such tasks and he never once mentioned such a plan to me."

"But as you yourself have pointed out, he often kept different tasks secret amongst his followers in order to maintain surprise and control. He could've worked with another master to brew," Minerva pointed out.

"That's true but again, I can't see that happening," Severus said.

"Can you completely rule out the possibility? Beyond a shadow of a doubt?" Sirius asked.

"No," Severus honestly answered. Voldemort had been a power-hungry, psychotic lunatic and as such was capable of anything.

"Very well then, we'll start with possible poisons," Minerva said, looking rather shaken and exhausted. "I'm still not completely convinced that we have a genuine problem on our hands, but I'm willing to err on the side of caution and look into this. If no poison is detected, then move we onto curses and hexes."

"And if those aren't found to be the cause?" Severus asked.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll take this one step at a time, Severus," Minerva said with a heavy sigh.

Severus gave a nod as his mind raced with possible potions and poisons that could be to blame.

"Alright, if it is a poison, there could be dozen possibilities that could potentially cause fatigue, magical energy loss and weakness. Several potions can be used to detect and ascertain whether or not we've been poisoned. I'll need several ingredients that are not in the castle's stock. I can send an owl immediately for a delivery tomorrow and can begin brewing then," Severus offered.

"Very well," said Minerva. "How long until they will be ready to be used?"

"I should have them ready within a day," Severus said.

"Excellent. The sooner, the better. And until we know for sure, no one should be working alone," Minerva answered.

"Pairs aren't even such a great idea either," Sirius said, casting a worried glance at Hermione.

"Very well, no more work for the rest of the day for anyone," Minerva declared. "Work will resume tomorrow, but going forward everyone must be in groups of four. This will of course slow our pace and extend our timetable considerably but we must insure everyone's safety as we try to identify the exact cause of this... _malaise_ ," she said with a good bit of worry and uncertainty.

She smoothed her frayed hair and took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

"I'll go and tell the others that Miss Granger will recover. I know they're eagerly awaiting some news. But," she said, her tone sharpening a bit, "until we have firm proof that this is more than simple exhaustion, I don't want any of these postulations leaving this room not even to the rest of the staff and faculty. The last thing we need is the _Daily Prophet_ getting ahold of any of this," Minerva commanded.

The group nodded in agreement. Minerva swept once more from the infirmary to brief the rest of the faculty as the crowd began to disperse within the infirmary, too.

Remus gave Hermione a warm kiss on her cheek and left for the Ministry, already an hour late for his meeting with Kingsley.

Draco, now freshly-bandaged and aided by his mother, hobbled back to the their rooms, where he was ordered to rest for the next two days. Harry, too, prepared to leave.

As he approached Hermione's bed, Sirius stood and gave his godson a warm hug.

"You'll floo call if she needs anything at all?" Harry asked, still worried and apprehensive about leaving.

"Of course, you head home and give all the Weasleys my best," Sirius offered with a warm smile as he took his seat once more beside the bed.

Turning to Professor Snape, Harry said, "Thank you, sir, for your help today with Professor Dumbledore's grave and, of course, with getting Hermione here so quickly. I didn't know you could run so fast," Harry quipped.

Severus smirked at this, "Neither did I, Mr. Potter."

"Sir, if I might ask, how did you know they were hurt? You seemed to know before the tower even fell that something was wrong," Harry noted, looking thoroughly perplexed.

Sirius crinkled his brow at this, "Yeah, Severus, how did you know?"

Severus had felt the ominous cloud settle over him, had known well before the tower crumbled that something grave had transpired but... _how_? He himself wasn't sure.

"Years of being a spy, I suppose, I have excellent hearing," Severus lied, trying to play off the sixth sense that had alerted him to the disaster. "I must've heard Draco yell and simply didn't consciously register it."

"That's incredible. I didn't hear him at all, though," Harry noted, sharing a rather disbelieving glance at Sirius as the young man bade them a 'good night' and left through the floo.

The sun was soon setting as Poppy left with Minerva's nightly potions as Severus and Sirius were the last to remain by her bedside, each on one side, when an owl arrived from Remus.

Fetching the missive from the tawny owl, Sirius ripped it open and scowled slightly.

"Damnit, Remus is still stuck at the ministry and Andromeda needs someone to relieve her from Teddy," Sirius noted, as he cast a worried look at Hermione.

"Go on then, get going. I can stay," Severus answered immediately.

"Are you sure? You don't mind sitting here?"

"Of course not. Go take care of your boy," Severus replied, the words causing Sirius to grin ever so slightly.

"Alright, thanks," he offered, looking truly grateful to have someone to watch over Hermione as he grabbed his leather jacket and prepared to leave.

"Please floo call if anything changes. I can be back at a moment's notice. I can even bring Teddy if need be, just call, okay?" Sirius asked, still looking unsure about departing.

"I will," Severus promised. "Now go before I change my mind."

Sirius smirked at this, knowing full-well that the man seated before him would sooner swallow a boot than willingly leave Hermione's side.

"I'll be back, first thing in the morning," Sirius uttered more to Hermione than Severus as he bent low and offered her one last tender kiss to her forehead.

Severus couldn't help the tightness that suddenly blossomed in his chest at the sight. He tried to dismiss both the action and his own response but found he was coming up short.

With a nod of thanks, Sirius strode quickly to the the floo. As he reached the hearth, Severus called out, "Sirius?"

"Yes?" he turned and answered, still not used to hearing his name come from this particular Slytherin.

"I'm sorry I hit you earlier...and Remus as well. I was…upset and not thinking clearly," Severus admitted, turning in his seat to face him and looking genuinely contrite.

"It's alright, I know you didn't mean it," Sirius replied sincerely. "At least not towards Remus, you always did like him. But me? You always did want to kick me in the balls, didn't you?" Sirius asked with a smirk as he grabbed a handful of floo powder.

Severus merely sighed and then chuckled softly.

"Maybe…a long time ago, but not today," he answered truthfully. "I am sorry, it was not done intentionally."

Sirius gave a smile and nodded, tossing the powder into the flames.

"Don't worry about it, Severus. Take good care of our girl tonight," he offered earnestly as he shouted out his address and disappeared into the emerald flames.

Before the sun had fully set, Severus had already sent an owl with a long list of potion ingredients he would need the following day to a discrete apothecary he frequented in London. Once this task was done and he had taken a moment to finally don a clean shirt, he had nothing left to do but keep watch.

Elves popped in every so often, offering pillows, blankets, food, tea, even firewhiskey but Severus politely declined the offers, for in truth they did not have the only thing he truly wanted; for her to heal.

Hours ticked by, quickly and quietly as the warm glow receded from the room. Shadows grew long and thick as Severus sat beside her, not sleeping or reading, merely keeping watch.

Near midnight, he stood and stretched his long legs, glancing out the window at the darkened grounds.

As his eyes swept along the black lake, his body growing tired from the long exhausting day, he he heard her softly moan in her sleep and he turned back to her.

Walking softly beside her, he took his seat once more as she moaned again, the sound strained and tinged with fear as she began to shake and writhe in her small bed.

"Please.. please, no," she whispered as her face crumpled in a look of pure despair.

"Miss Granger, wake up, wake up," he gently called as he sat down beside her, his eyes full of concern as he stared down at the young woman.

But she only slept on, her face contorting further in anguish and fear, she looked as if she would burst into tears at any second.

"Don't hurt them! Please!" she shouted, looking frightened in a way Severus had never seen before.

He reached forward then and grasped her shoulders and began to try and shake her awake.

"Miss Granger, Miss Granger! Wake up!"

But still she slept on, trapped deep within the clutches of frightful memories.

"Hermione, wake up!" he finally shouted, looking desperate and agitated.

Her eyes opened but she was clearly disoriented, still groggy and terrified from her dream. She immediately began to struggle against Severus' firm grasp, looking like a panicked, trapped animal.

"Let me go! Let me GO!" she shouted, kicking her legs while she tried to tug her arms free.

He only held on tighter, his grip firm and his body shifting closer and closer until he was holding her tight, pulling her small frame into his own.

"Hermione!" he yelled through her fog of terror, "you're safe, calm down."

The smooth, deep tenor settled deep within her, finding that place in her heart that knew that voice so well, that trusted it beyond a doubt. It was only then that she finally stopped struggling.

"Calm down, it's me," he breathed, pulling back slightly to see her eyes gradually focusing. She sat up slightly and saw a pair of strong arms holding her tight and she looked confused.

Glancing up, she met his eyes and surprise flickered across them.

Looking deep into those dark pools, she felt her bravery melt away. She realized who was holding her and burst into tears. Bowing her head, she let the tears flow gracelessly down her face and her body heaved from her ragged breath.

Fighting against everything he had ever known, against his better senses even, he pulled her in again and held her, the sweet warmth of her body radiating through her thin nightgown.

"You're safe now, it's alright," he soothed as his hands held her tight, her body quivering beneath his own.

He held onto her and it gave her peace. His strong body pulling her in so close, holding her so tight, she felt her worry fade and her heart beat gradually slowly to match his own. His firm hands stroked up and down her back, the rhythm a soothing balm on her frazzled nerves.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his chest, "I have...terrors sometimes, and I can be hard to awaken."

"What was it about?" he asked softly, quietly enjoying how she fit just right within his arms.

She sighed against him, her fingers splayed across his firm chest.

"I'd rather not say," she answered, eyes downcast as she gently pulled herself from his comforting touch.

He let her slip from his grasp, although reluctantly so, as he stayed seated beside her in her small bed.

Eyeing him, she suddenly looked confused as she glanced around the empty infirmary.

"How did you...I mean, how is it you were here to wake me up?" she asked.

"I told Poppy I'd stay here tonight, and keep watch."

"You've been here all night?" she asked disbelievingly.

A simple nod met her query, "In case you needed anything."

"That's very kind of you," she said with a grateful smile, secretly taken aback by the thought of him simply sitting beside her while she slept.

She laid back down, looking drained and exhausted yet agitated and wide awake.

Not knowing quite what to say, Severus stood and walked across the infirmary to the small table right outside Poppy's door. He fetched the small kettle, magically setting the water to boil, fixing a pot of tea.

She watched him from across the infirmary, her tired, red eyes soothed the sight of him busying himself.

He returned a moment later with her tea. As she sat up and took the cup, the smell of lemon wafted up and she smiled, "You remembered."

He smiled kindly in reply. "You told me how you take your tea just this morning, Miss Granger. My old age not withstanding, and senility not quite taken hold just yet," he quipped, "I can remember most things I'm told. Besides which, I promised you... I'll never forget."

She chuckled slightly and smiled into her tea cup, feeling herself slowly relaxing.

They drank in silence, the quiet of the night and the warmth of the tea, soothing her frayed nerves.

As she drained her cup, she realized how tired she had grown once more, her body still quite weak and her muscles sore.

"Thank you, sir," she uttered as he reached forward to take her tea cup.

"My pleasure. Here take a small sip of this," he offered as he produced a small vial from his shirt pocket.

"What is this?" she asked.

"A little Dreamless Sleep."

She shook her head and tried to hand it back, "I don't like taking that."

"Neither do I, so I appreciate your reluctance. But I believe after the day you've had, a small amount could be beneficial."

She sighed softly and gave a reluctant nod, tilting the thin vial up to her lips, "Yes, I suppose you're right."

She took the smallest of sips and winced at the bitter taste. But immediately felt a calmness suffuse her chest and her body begin to melt into a relaxed state.

Severus smiled slightly as she yawned and settled back against her pillow.

He reached forward to take the vial.

"Thank you, that helped," she murmured.

"Good, now…go to sleep, you need your rest," he gently admonished.

Her brow furrowed with worry, "I'm so sorry I disturbed your rest, sir. You can leave now. I'll be fine for the rest of the night."

"No, if it's quite alright with you, Miss Granger, I'll stay."

"You need your rest, too. You really don't need to stay, sir."

"I know that, but you sat beside my bed for many a night, didn't you?"

She blushed suddenly at this and nodded shyly that she had indeed sat beside his bed. Poppy must've told him.

"And why did you do that?" he pointedly asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

She fidgeted a moment before swallowing the truth as she looked away. The move did not go unnoticed by Severus.

"Because I didn't want you to wake up alone," she offered the half-truth as her eyes were downcast, feeling silly and exposed.

Without even thinking, he instinctively reached forward then and took her hand in his. The gentle caress of his hand against hers, the way hers fit so perfectly within his, it felt so warm, so very right, her breath caught at the contact as she looked up to see him watching her intently.

"Well, then... I feel the same way, so I'll be here should you need anything. Just in case," he said gently as he gave her hand one last firm squeeze and he pulled himself back.

She smiled in secret relief and settled once more onto her pillow, her face relaxing, her eyelids growing heavy.

"You'll really stay all night?"

"All night."

"Thank you, sir," she softly murmured as her eyes fluttered shut. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

With that she let out a deep, contended sigh, finally closed her eyes and fell asleep.

He swallowed hard and looked away.

Why had she stayed by his bed? And why had she just lied to him about her reason for doing so? Could she possibly… _care_ for him? _Really care for him_? More than pity? More than obligation?

No. The thought was so preposterous, so absolutely absurd, he felt compelled to dismiss it immediately. No one could ever feel anything beyond a passing concern for him, of that he was sure.

But a small part of him, the part that always wanted things that could never come to pass, that untamable part of his lonely, wretched heart wanted it to be true. He was unworthy of such thoughts and consideration but damn if he didn't want it, long for it and crave it, deep within his bones.

She obviously cared for him in some capacity otherwise she never would've saved him. But the question that now struck him was… _why_? Why did she care at all, about him of all people? The thought worried him.

He tried to look away, to admire the night stars or twiddle his thumbs, any damn thing but watch her sleep. But try as he might, he found his eyes kept drifting back to her.

Her long brown lashes resting against her tan face.

Her hair an absolute mess of tangles and knots.

Her small, warm hand so empty-looking now that his hand no longer clutched it.

Her body moving gently beneath the thin sheet.

He pulled his wand and cast a thickening and warming charm on the blanket. Reaching forward, he pulled the blankets up to her shoulders, gently tucking it beneath her sides.

The last thing he did, almost selfishly so, was to sweep a fallen lock of hair off of her face. His fingertips graced her skin and he breathed a soft sigh of relief at how warm they felt, how pink her cheeks now looked, how she breathed easily.

She could've died today. He didn't like to admit how close they had skated to the edge, he hated thinking of the what-ifs. But if he were truly being honest with himself, he could admit that were it not for Draco's reluctant bravery, his own swift, long legs and Poppy's incredible skill, he could've lost her.

The woman he owed the very breath in his lungs to.

The woman who risked everything to save his worthless life.

The woman who had shown, time and time again, that she inexplicably cared for him.

It shook him deep inside to ponder such dangerous thoughts.

And so, all alone in the silent infirmary, he sat beside her and finally gave in and just watched her, and relished the sight of her warm, safe and whole. He slipped his hand back into hers and felt his heart soar as she clutched it tightly, a small smile now gracing her lips while she slept.

He gently held it till the sun finally rose, his thumb tracing a soft line across her fingers, wondering just how in the hell he had started to care so deeply for her.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Big, huge amazing thanks for all the follows, favs and great reviews! I know I say it every time, but I truly mean it, each review is such a treat, so thank you for taking the time to write them. I treasure each and every one of them. Special thanks to** ** _Fraulein Takoor _****for reviewing so many chapters, you're an absolute sweetheart! I also owe** ** _CrystalViolet_** **a sincere thanks for the abundant and kind reviews and for also catching a plot hole I had overlooked. Thank you so much for the help!**

 **And of course, my unending gratitude to** ** _Marcella Dix_** **, my dear, sweet friend, for inspiring me, encouraging me and keeping me on track. This chapter would not be here today without her unwavering support. Happy Tuesday and take care, everyone!**

* * *

 _It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see._

\- _Henry David Thoreau_

There was something indescribably breathtaking and sacred about watching the sun rise, the earth dawning fresh and new once more as the last bit of darkness disappeared.

Severus had spent many a sleepless night greeting the sun from the shadows rather than the other way around, but he rarely took the opportunity to actually sit and watch it rise, slowly pushing the night, and all the terrors it held, away. Greeting the dawn felt almost as if he had cheated the sun of its grand opening and caught it off guard by beating it to the punch.

He smirked at the notion that he could ever best anything at all, let alone the natural world. But he had cheated death, several times in fact, thanks to the woman asleep beside him, holding his hand and curling her whole body towards him. Watching her now, perhaps the notion of him winning something should not have surprised him at all.

He sat beside her, his hand still clutched protectively around hers and silently watched the new day break in a soft kaleidoscope of color, a rare sense of wonder flooding him.

Her slow, even breathing, her body so still, he too felt at peace even though he hadn't slept in day. He smiled slightly as she shifted in her sleep and wrinkled her nose in displeasure, her lips pursing and her brow furrowing, as if someone had just doubted her arithmancy homework. It was the same disapproving gesture he'd seen her offer the Weasley boy so many times over the years, he couldn't help but smile at the sight.

But this thought was quickly followed by another that made him pause; why hadn't the Weasley boy arrived to check on her yet?

Although generally thoughtless and obtuse with members of the opposite sex, surely the young man cared enough about his closest friend to be with her as she brushed once more against death. From the way Ron Weasley teased and toyed with the young woman's affections, Severus was certain he loved her, in only the way a young, immature boy could. And given her affinity and friendship towards him, Severus assumed the pair were an item or at least heading swiftly in that direction. So why then hadn't the boy arrived to check on her?

 _Thoughtless, young prat,_ he sourly mused to himself.

But how could anyone be careless with such a woman?

 _You, for starters, you mean git_ , he swiftly replied.

He had been mean over the years, not because he had wanted to be, but because he had to maintain his cover. There really had been no choice.

But now he was free to be anything his heart desired and both his heart and mind wanted to give her nothing but kindness because he realized now that he genuinely cared for her. She was his… _friend_ , he realized with not a small amount of surprise.

The complicated feelings, the ones that had caught him so sharply off-guard the day before when she lay in the brink of death, arose once more and it shook him.

How had this started? Was it when she saved him in the shack? Or perhaps it was her incredible work at his trial? Or during the nights she ate with him in the infirmary, her wild hair bathed in golden, warm light from the fire and her confident, inquisitive gaze holding his?

No. They had certainly grown closer since the final battle, being pulled inexplicably closer with each passing day but these moments were not the reason he now found himself in this peculiar position.

If he were being completely honest, this concern was something that was years in the making and he knew exactly when it began.

It was that fateful night, so many years ago, when Lupin transformed in front of them. The way she had clung to him, held him so tightly, how she looked at him, her young pure face so full of adoration and gratitude. That was the moment he felt something within him shift and soften towards her.

As he escorted the three back to the castle, his wand at the ready, his body shielding theirs, and his heart pounding, he chanced a glance at her and when he did so, she turned her head and saw him too. Her eyes caught his and the look she gave him almost stopped him in his tracks. Like a lightning bolt straight to the chest, her raw, heated gaze shook him and made him momentarily forget who he was and who she was. In that moment they weren't teacher and student, they were something entirely different. Two bodies, two souls, equals in every way, sharing something intangible yet earth shattering, at least to Severus.

He couldn't say what that look meant for he had never seen it in anyone before. It was as if time had stopped, the earth halted and in that moment it was just the two of them, sharing the unspoken connection, like an ancient, forbidden magic that was too dangerous a power for mere mortals to possess.

That was it. That was the very moment it all changed for him.

Almost as quickly as he felt it, it vanished and she turned from him, a vague reluctance seeming to permeate her every movement as she trudged wordlessly beside Potter and Weasley.

They made it back safely to the castle that night and years passed by, a war was won, a great many people lost, but still that brief heartbeat of a moment stuck with him, much as he was disinclined to admit it.

They had shared something, deep and powerful, something without a name or simple feeling to pin to it, for it held too much in its depths.

Passion, fear, hope, understanding, longing, warmth, safety, relief, joy…it was all there. It felt like coming home after a long, arduous journey, greeted by the warm crackle of the fire and the singular, comforting embrace of your lover, their arms encircling you, flooding you with a peace that no one else in the whole world could summon.

Had she felt it too? Had this moment been the reason she saved him?

Although she had said, more than once, that she had saved him because deep down she believed him decent and good, this simply wasn't a good enough answer for the lonely man. For how on earth could she have believed him a good man when all evidence seemed to point to the contrary?

He had been cruel over the years, he knew that. He had been difficult and brash but he always took care to keep her safe, sometimes even more so than Potter.

Potter had, of course, been his assignment, his duty, his ticket to absolution. The Weasley boy, glued to the Chosen One's side since the first feast, naturally came along with that bargain, but Miss Granger…she had always been different. That he had protected her with such devotion had come from a different place, it always had, although he could never describe it.

That is, until last night.

Concern. Genuine, heartfelt concern for the girl permeated every inch of him and he knew when she was lying on that bed, her fragile life in Poppy's hands, that she had touched him in a way no one had in a very long time.

He hadn't cared about anyone since Lily, not really. So now to care again, to worry whether someone else lived or died, was happy or in despair, it all felt confusing and not a tad bit overwhelming. Strong emotions weren't something he dealt with much. Anger, certainly. Disappointment, on a regular basis. But concern, worry even...it felt terrifying. But it was the kind of terror that made him want to hold on even tighter rather than flee, as he usually did.

His worried thoughts were interrupted as he heard the crisp click of heels upon stone, and a gentle _tap-tap_ of a cane coming down the hallway.

He straightened up and carefully pulled his hand from Miss Granger's grasp, but not before Minerva swept into the infirmary and caught sight of the rather touching gesture.

She said not a word as she approached the bedside, but a smile small tugged at her lips as she eyed not only her sleeping cub but the pale Slytherin sat beside her, who now sported an impressive blush to his pale cheeks, his eyes cast shamefully to the floor.

"Severus, you look tired. Did you sleep at all?" Minerva gently inquired as she flanked the other side of the bed and sat down heavily upon a worn, wooden stool.

Eying her tired, pale face and stooped shoulders, Severus said, "From the looks of it, neither one of us managed much sleep."

"I was worried about her," Minerva admitted, reaching forward to gently touch Hermione's face. A small, sad smile formed on her lips, "How is she doing this morning? Any improvement?"

"Yes, she's doing better. She slept well, for the most part, and her vitals have all improved. The break in her leg has healed nicely but the fracture in her arm is still present," he offered, all business.

"That should've healed by now," Minerva noted with some worry.

"Yes," he replied, his tone low and worried. "It should have."

Hermione began to stir then and slowly awoke, her body stretching slightly as her face winced in discomfort.

Without even thinking, Severus leaned forward and took her hand in his once more, his face painted with pure concern, not giving a single damn that Minerva was there to see him do it.

Her eyes slowly opened and immediately caught his dark eyes boring into hers. She felt the lovely warmth of his large hand cradling her own and she offered a sleepy smile.

"You stayed," she smiled, squeezing his hand ever so slightly.

"I promised I would," he offered earnestly, squeezing her hand in return.

The silence hung there a moment, the pair each smiling and locked in a unbreakable gaze.

"Good morning, Hermione. How are you feeling?" Minerva finally asked, breaking the hypnotic connection the pair seemed to be sharing. Poppy appeared by the bedside then, having just arrived, and brandished her wand to assess the young woman's vitals.

Severus reluctantly released her hand and sat back a bit, worry and exhaustion still etched upon his face.

"Feeling a bit better, ma'am. My arm still aches a bit," Hermione admitted, meeting Minerva's gaze. She winced slightly as she adjusted the aching appendage.

Poppy fetched several vials from the medicine cabinet and handed them to Hermione with a rather disapproving look on her face.

"Here, one pain potion and another bone mending potion. That should heal the remaining fracture by the end of the day," Poppy offered confidently.

"It should've healed by now, no?" Hermione asked looking concerned, as the other three shared a knowing look, one laced with hesitation.

"Is something more serious wrong with me?" Hermione asked, taking in their heavy silence with a good bit of wariness.

"No, dearest, nothing serious," reassured Minerva, her voice soft and maternal as she patted Hermione's hand affectionately. "Clearly you were a bit run-down, as we all have been." This omission and half-truth earned her a glare from Severus.

"To be fair, Miss Granger, you should know that there may have been other factors effecting your recovery," Severus pointedly added.

"Other factors, sir? So this wasn't just exhaustion, was it?"

"We're not in a position to say that just yet," Minerva volleyed back, shooting Severus a vexed look of her own. "Severus has presented evidence that there might be something effecting us all, causing our magical reserve to be a bit… _low_ at the moment."

Hermione leaned back, her face set in concentration a moment. Her brow creased as she she bit her bottom lip, worrying the plump flesh with her teeth. He could almost see the wheels and cogs turning within before she slowly nodded and spoke.

"Poison? Dark magic? A curse of some kind?" she immediately speculated, her eyes meeting his with uncertainty.

"Perhaps, we're not sure yet," Severus replied.

"But I'd like to stress once more, that we have no concrete evidence to support this," Minerva pointed out. "It very well could be simple exhaustion and I don't want anyone jumping to any conclusions before we've firmly ruled out a few possibilities. It's not as if we've all been holiday these past six months. These have been stressful times, we're all run ragged, really this type of magical depletion is almost expected."

"You make a valid point," Hermione conceded, "but," she began once more, still looking hesitant, "I can't help feeling the same sense of unease about this as Professor Snape. Too many factors point to a severe energy loss. You have been slow to heal, Minerva, just like Professor Snape. Neville couldn't seal at the glass at the greenhouse, the incident with Draco and I in the tower. This just doesn't feel right."

Severus had to forcibly stop himself from smiling at the speed and ease with which she connected the dots and came up with the same rationale and conclusion as he had.

"It could be any number of things," she continued, looking more and more determined with each passing moment, "and I for one won't rest until I know for certain. I must start researching, immediately."

Hermione made to get out of bed and leave, but Poppy stopped her with a firm hand.

"You magical energy is quite low, my dear, you need rest."

"Ma'am, I feel much better, really," Hermione declared, trying to be convincing. "Please, allow me to go and help. I promise, I'll take it easy."

"There's no need to push yourself," Minerva replied. "We've decided to test for potential poisons first and Severus has it well under control."

Severus gave a nod and offered, "A blood composition potion can be used to ascertain whether or not we've been poisoned. And reveal which type of poison might be responsible. The necessary ingredients should be arriving shortly, and I'll begin brewing it immediately."

"Then kindly allow me to help, sir," Hermione implored, eagerness and a desire to be of some use shining clear on her young, pure face.

"No," he said firmly, "you're healing and should rest. I am more than capable of brewing alone."

"Please...I need to know what's causing this and sitting here will do little good to quell my worries. I need to be sure no one else will be hurt. Allow me to help by keeping busy. I promise not to get in your way, I'll only assist you. Besides, no one should be working alone right now," Hermione pointed out.

Severus sighed and said, "I will allow it but only with Poppy's approval."

Poppy looked more than ready to shoot down the idea when Minerva gave her a gentle nudge and a soft smile. "If Hermione is feeling up to, you should let her."

"You shouldn't be allowed out of my sight at all but…oh, very well," pursed Madam Pomfrey, "you may go."

"Thank you, Madam. I promise not to push myself too hard," Hermione offered, smiling brightly.

"No strenuous activities or casting anything more than simple spells," Poppy lectured. "And I want you back here before supper for a vitals check."

Hermione readily agreed.

Turning to Severus, Poppy added, "And I expect you to take good care of her while in your company and floo-call if she becomes fatigued or feverish. And remember, no casting magic upon her, even a simple spell cast on her person would diminish her magic even further."

"I will, Poppy. You have my word," promised Severus, suddenly delighted and slightly nervous at the thought of brewing alone with the young woman all day.

"Very well," said Poppy, seemingly satisfied, "I'll fetch your last potions for the morning and a protective sling for your arm. I first must floo to my quarters and look for it. It's been ages since I needed to use it, I'll return shortly," Poppy promised as she swept into her office and used the private floo to her rooms.

As Poppy bustled off, Minerva stood, preparing to leave as well.

"I'm late to meet the others for the morning meeting, I should get going."

"How do you plan on dividing up work, since we all might be at risk of energy loss or injury?" Hermione asked.

"Groups of four, instead of two, will work together for now. And no large scale work until we have this issue sorted out," Minerva stated firmly.

Hermione visibly deflated at this and frowned.

"But what about our timetable, ma'am? Groups of four will substantially lengthen our schedule. A September opening would be all but impossible," Hermione pointed out, clearly upset by the setback.

"One thing at a time, Hermione. Check for poisons and then we'll go from there. Let's not worry about the school reopening just yet," Minerva reassured her with a warm pat to her arm.

Hermione frowned at this, nodding although she looked anything but pleased with the notion of pushing back on the reconstruction schedule.

"We'll do everything we can to find this source and get back on track. I promise," Hermione uttered, looking tired but determined.

"I'm positive you will," Minerva replied as she rose and made for the door. "Let me know when the potion is ready to be used," Minerva called out as she disappeared through the doorway and bustled down the east hallway.

Alone together once more, Hermione smiled gently at her former professor and pulled back the thick blankets and gingerly wiggled her toes. Both legs seemed healed and so she used her one good arm to try and sit upright. Her face immediately crumpled though at the pain that shot through her still fractured arm, and Severus once again stepped forward at the sight.

"Do you need assistance?" he asked, his large hands eager to touch her, help her, in some way.

"No, I can manage," she said with a soft smile as she pushed her weary body up from the mattress and sat up in bed with a groan, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

Glancing around the bedside she asked, "Do you happen to know where Madam Pomfrey put my clothes?"

Severus wordlessly knelt in front of her, his chest now square with her knees, bare legs and thin hospital gown.

Her pulsed quickened at how close he now was.

"Pardon me," he murmured slightly, gesturing under her bed. She blushed as she inched her legs to the side, allowing him to bend under.

Reaching underneath the bed, he extricated her t-shirt, jeans, and trainers from the day before, all clean and neatly folded, with her wand atop the pile.

"Thank you, sir," she blushed as she took the clothing from him, their fingers brushing in the process. "For a near-death experience, they're cleaner than I would've thought," she quipped as she laid the clothes atop her bed.

"I mended them and cleansed them last night," he answered. "I had quite a bit of time on my hands," he offered as way of explanation.

She smiled at him, still kneeling before her and marveled at the curious, rather enigmatic man she owed so much to.

"That was incredibly kind of you, after everything you've done. Thank you," she softly spoke, her golden-caramel eyes shining with warmth.

He nodded, entranced once more by her, his knees seemingly glued to the floor. When he didn't move after a moment, she smiled once more and giggled softly.

"Um…I'm going to get dressed now, sir," she gently said, smiling.

His mind snapped to attention and he hastily hailed himself from the floor blushing furiously. Recovering his stoic expression once more, he quickly erected the privacy screen in front and around her bed to shield her. He turned his back away for good measure, too.

"Thank you, again, sir," she once more replied.

The sun shining through the large bay window, silhouetted his dark outline against the opaque silk screen. She watched in silence as his head turned towards her and then away. He stood motionless on the other side.

"Let me know if you need anything, Miss Granger."

She chuckled softly as she reached around with her one good arm and untied her hospital gown.

"Why do you still call me that, sir?"she asked as she sat and began to pull the gown from her body, carefully avoiding her still aching arm.

"Excuse me?" he asked, his head turning once more towards the screen, although he could see nothing of her body.

"You still call me 'Miss Granger', but I am no longer your student. Why do you do that?" She asked as she finally removed the scratchy gown and threw it on the ground, landing just outside the privacy screen.

The garment landing softly upon the stone caught his eye and he forgot to breathe for a moment while a vision of her naked body danced dangerously before his mind's eye. She was nude this very second, a thin silk shield and five feet the only thing separating him from her. Goose pimples prickled his skin at the thought as he fought for his suddenly-misplaced equilibrium.

Remembering she had asked a question, his mind whirred into action, trying to find a suitable answer.

"It's…um, simply a habit I suppose. You were my student for a long time and it's a hard practice to break."

"I suppose that makes sense," she said as she slowly bent forward and slipped her feet into her pale pink panties, the thought that her professor had seen and mended them not only embarrassing her but also sending a pleasant jolt through her body.

She pushed the thoughts aside. Having only use of her left arm made it a slower process than usual as she slid the garment up her bruised legs.

The silence hung for a moment as she slowly pulled her good arm and then her injured arm through her white bra straps, the clasp hanging open at the back.

She sat up and breathed heavy at the exertion, Severus could hear it.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger? Do you need help?" he asked, her gentle sigh pushing his rather inappropriate thoughts away as the concern returned once more in full-force.

"I'm fine…I just…" she stopped, breathing heavily.

"What it is?"

"I'm having a bit of trouble," she admitted.

"Do you need some assistance?" he asked.

"No, sir I can mange… I just-" she broke off again as a moan of sharp pain escaped her lips.

Turning and rushing to the screen, it took all his will power not to push the flimsy screen aside to help her. But he managed to stop himself, just barely, right before it. The last thing in the world she would want, he assured himself, would be for him to see her undressed…yet again. So he stopped himself from entering.

Her body was still shielded, but he could just make out her slumped form and hear her heavy breathing and his heart ached from it.

"If you need something, I'd like to help," he gently offered, warmth and kindness redolent in his voice.

"No...thank you, I've got it," she uttered trying to sound confident, but failing. She tried to use her wand to clasp the bra herself but the spell wouldn't hold, given the rather meager reserve of magic she had to call upon, she sighed once more.

"Damnit," she uttered in defeat, as she dropped her now-useless wand on the bed.

"For someone who likes to chastise others for being unwilling to accept help, you sure can be obstinate yourself," he noted.

She sighed again in frustration.

"Please...let me help you," he implored.

 _Help? Help get me dressed? Not a chance in hell._

She gave a deep, weary sigh at the ridiculous thought of the object of her affection seeing her like this.

Of all the times she dreamt of him seeing her naked, never had she thought she'd look like this.

Spots of dried blood dotted her bruised torso, a deep purple and green bruise wrapped around her stomach and up her back giving her quite the gruesome appearance. Glancing down at her legs, she saw her skin was dry and flaky, dirty in spots, her hair matted and tangled, her lips cracked and pale. Her body smelled rather sickly from all the healing ointments that had been slathered liberally onto her skin the day before and to add insult to injury, she hadn't shaved her legs in at least a week. She was quite literally a complete and total mess.

"My arm is still too weak to be of much use. I…I can't manage to get dressed on my own," she defeatedly admitted, tears suddenly stinging her eyes at her rather pathetic state.

"Then allow me to help," he immediately answered, but no sooner had the words left his lips than his heart began to race and his palms grew sweaty at the thought of dressing her.

"Please, sir, I…I don't want you to see me like this." Her voice sounded so small and laced with embarrassment, his heart couldn't help but break a bit at the sound.

"Miss Granger, were you not the woman who kept me from bleeding to death? Who changed my bandages for weeks? Who cared for me when no one else could or would?"

Tears fell from her tired eyes at this. "Yes, sir, I did."

"Well then, I can assure that it doesn't matter in the least to me how you look right now. You are just as lovely as you always are. So please, let me assist you, just as you have helped me."

Her breath caught at this and for a long moment she couldn't even breathe properly.

Her silence caused his heart to clench as he drew a steading breath and said more evenly, "Of course if you'd rather not have my help, I can fetch Madam Pomfrey."

"No," she immediately answered, "I'd rather she not know I'm still so weak, she won't let me leave. You know how she can be."

"In that case, I can floo for young Mr. Weasley to come. I'm sure your _boyfriend_ wouldn't mind helping you dress," Severus offered, his voice snagging on the offending word like a bitter pill.

"Ron and I aren't together, sir," she immediately replied. "He's off in Romania now anyway."

 _Not together?_ He couldn't help the lightness that seemed to sneak upon him at this. Well that explains why he hadn't visited.

"Well, then, in that case, who should I get?"

She sighed gently as she realized that even in her ravaged state, he was still the only one she wanted to rely on at the moment.

"I'd like your help, sir," she asked, her voice still unsure. "That is if…if you really wouldn't mind?"

His heart fluttered in his chest once more at the abundant trust she seemed to have in him. He drew a deep breath and replied, "Of course I wouldn't. Please tell me when I may enter."

She pushed aside her sense of dread and pulled the balled-up bedsheets from the foot of the bed to cover the front of her body. With one last deep breath, she wiped away her tears and uttered a soft, "You may come in, sir."

He stepped around the screen and kept his eyes trained on the floor, summoning all his reserve to appear calm and put the young, injured woman at ease.

She turned slightly as he entered and watched as his eyes, his whole body in fact seemed to be rigid and thoroughly uncomfortable with the task at hand.

"Um..what can I…I mean, where would you … what should I do?" he nervously blurted out, eyes still glued to the floor.

"Can you fasten my bra first?" she sheepishly asked, her embarrassment apparent as her cheeks stained a deep red.

He gave a simple nod, his eyes still downward, trying to be as gentlemanly as humanly possible even though a nearly-naked goddess sat on the bed before him.

He stepped towards her and finally looked up. Seated on the edge of the small bed in pale lace panties and facing away from him, she held a bedsheet to cover the front half of her body, but her back was completely exposed, the long swath of pale, bruised skin a difficult sight to take in.

With all the bruising lacing her back, it was easy to see just how injured she had been just one day ago. But the dark purples and sickly greens weren't what truly caught his eye.

Her long curls flowed like water down her bare, pale back, curling and falling in a maze of impossibly soft spirals.

A constellation of freckles dotted her shoulders, gracing her skin like kisses from the sun.

A small old jagged scar lay on her lower back, just off to the right.

Her small shoulders, held so straight and proud. Her strong muscles that flanked the delicate, graceful curve of her spine. Her hips, her soft skin, the very way she held herself despite being completely exposed before him.

 _Beautiful. Simply perfect_.

How his fingers longed to reach out and tenderly touch each spot, each mark, trace them, kiss them, taste the salt on her skin.

When he didn't move, she turned and offered him a shy smile, and an inquisitive look.

This look snapped him out of his daze as he realized she was still patiently awaiting some assistance.

"My bra, sir?" She gently asked once more, the straps of the garment still hanging off to each side.

He consciously tamped down his desire and met her gaze with a polite nod. He stepped towards her and gently took each side of the bra and brought them together, fastening them quickly even though his hands were shaking.

"I can heal the bruising, with your permission, of course," he said, his eyes drinking in every inch of her.

"Oh…only if it's not too much trouble, sir," she demurred, hating to make even more unpleasant work for him.

As he laid his hands gently against her aching back, Hermione felt an incredibly soothing wave of magic tingle and then warm her skin. She immediately fell silent as his potent magic took hold and the searing pain in her back slowly began to recede. Holding his hands against her, he softly recited an incantation, the Latin pouring from his lips like honey from a comb.

Slowly the purple and nasty green hues faded and left the soft, rosy hue in their wake as Hermione breathed a deep sigh, and bowed her head in pure relief.

"Thank you," she said with a genuine smile as he pulled his warm hands away and walked around the bed to finally face her.

"Alright then," he said, his breath catching as he finally faced her. "Um, yes...your pants next?"

She nodded and blushed a deeper red. As he knelt before her, his body so close to hers, she slowly pulled the sheet up so as to reveal her bare legs. Suddenly aware of just how terrible she looked, how close he knelt and how deathly quiet the infirmary was, save for the pounding of her heart, she swallowed hard and looked away.

"I'm sorry to make you do this, sir," she whispered, her face contorting again, but this time it was not from pain, but rather shame.

"Don't say that," he immediately replied, forcing her to look him in the eye. "Do not for a second think this is a burden or something you should be ashamed of. We all need help from time to time, as you yourself reminded me," he said gently as he tenderly squeezed her hand once more, a small tear escaping her eye at the gesture.

She gave him a small smile and nodded.

Kneeling in front of her, he grabbed the jeans from the bed, his eyes focused on his task as he gently pulled her right leg through the pant leg.

 _Breathe, breathe_ , he silently chanted as he helped her get dressed, trying desperately to remain even and neutral.

He had helped countless students over the years with injures and various personal problems and he had always approached these interactions with as much professionalism as he could muster.

When a sobbing eleven-year-old Pansy Parkinson got her very first period in his class, he cast a Notice-Me-Not on the young girl and walked her all the way to the infirmary while she blew her nose into his finest robes.

And every damn time Finnegan or Longbottom decided to liquefy or blow-up their cauldrons outright, for the hapless pair seemed to have created an alternating schedule over the years to ensure that every class period would involve an impressive explosion, he would often heal their burns and cuts himself, quickly and throughly.

He may not have outwardly seemed kind or concerned but taking care of the students was a responsibility he took sincerely to heart. He never once allowed a student to knowingly suffer. He had in fact tried his best over the years to take care of them as best he could.

He tried now to recall that code of professional detachment and approach this moment much the same way.

 _She's a student in need. She's a student in need._

And while part of his brain accepted this and worked without comment, another part couldn't help but point out that this beautiful woman was in fact neither a student nor a child any longer. This part also couldn't help but revel in the intimacy, the trust she had in him, the feeling of her naked body so very close to him, stirring a frightening want deep within him.

He had never once had the experience of dressing, or even undressing a woman for that matter, his rather paltry sexual history not involving such intimacies. So this experience, as innocent as it was meant to be, felt positively divine, much as he hated himself for feeling it.

His hands skimmed over her delicate feet and the soft skin of her firm calves as he pulled the fabric up, just past her knees. He stopped at her thighs, so creamy and soft, her innocent pink panties beckoning for him to glance at and delight in. He kept his eyes firmly on the floor.

"Hold onto my shoulder and stand, then I'll pull them up," he offered succinctly, not trusting his voice to elaborate.

With only one good arm, she couldn't hold the sheet in front of her and his shoulder at the same time. So she drew a breath and cast the thin sheet aside, leaving herself seated before him in only her bra and panties.

He held her gaze for a single second, one that lasted almost an eternity by his estimation, as the image of her beautiful body burned into his mind's eye.

He immediately shut his eyes tight, and bowed his head, opting to go by feeling alone to finish this task rather than gawk at her and steal her last remaining bit of dignity and privacy.

She smiled at his thoughtfulness as she reached forward and gripped his shoulder. She slipped off the edge of the bed and stood slowly, gripping him even tighter to maintain her balance. She looked down just as he stood up, pulling the jeans up as well and sliding the tight fabric up and over the delectable curve of her backside. His cold fingers grazed the scorching hot skin of her thighs with a featherlight touch. She had to hold in a moan of pleasure at the contact. As his deft fingers brushed her bum, ever so lightly, the pants finally settled at her waist and his strong hands finally stilled, holding her steady.

A soft sigh escaped her lips and he finally opened his eyes. Standing before her, he looked down at her half-clothed form, his hands resting on her lower back and a mere inch of breath separating them. While she held onto his strong shoulder and stared into his endless black depths, what he saw there shocked him. No longer did her eyes cast aside with embarrassment, but instead held his with confidence.

Surely his eyes must be playing tricks on him. No one looked at him like this, for her gaze held no anger, no disgust, no hatred. None of the emotions he was so used to receiving from others. Only gratitude and trust lay there and it truly shocked him.

The urge to close the small distance and kiss those soft, sweet lips surged through him.

A sudden rush of longing clutched her, as well, grabbing hold of her and refusing to let go.

The moment stretched on, neither one knowing quite what to do or how to betray the wish that lay deep within them both.

Hermione, feeling herself being swept away, panicked first, tearing her gaze from him.

She closed her eyes and bowed her head, resting it gently against his chest to try and reign in her dangerous desires and muddled thoughts.

He breathed her rich, heady scent in as she leaned into him, blessing him with a moment to collect himself and banish the absurd thoughts.

"Just a bit dizzy," she lied. "I'm sorry," she murmured against his chest, the warmth of her breath seeping through his button-down and warming his skin.

"Quite alright," he softly replied as his hands held onto her divine, bare skin.

 _More than alright. Perfect, in fact._

She lifted her head after a long moment and offered a weak smile. "That's better."

His thoughts collected and his heart slightly quieted, he returned once more to his task.

His hands slipped from her back to her hips, his gentle grip holding her steady, as his thumbs caressed the skin there.

His hands, slowly reached for the two sides of denim, his fingers softly brushing the delicate skin of her stomach.

His eyes dipped, quickly skimming over her breasts, clad in pure white, and her long, pale body.

 _Don't look. Do. Not. Look._

The concern was one thing, but to desire her, to want her…that was something he simply couldn't allow. He had been her teacher and was twenty years her senior, and now he was lusting after her. He felt himself sink to new, unfounded depths of self-loathing as this yearning thrummed through him and he truly wanted nothing more in that moment than to turn a blind-eye to this feeling. So he looked away once more.

But even without looking at her beautiful body, his own body alighted with the foreign heaviness of desire, the urge to pull her in and shower her in tender kisses, kiss every bruise and scratch and heal her with his bare hands, it nearly overwhelmed him. Her warm skin against his cold fingers, the sweet smell of her body fresh from sleep, her hand clutching his shoulder tight. He didn't need to look at her to feel all of this, just being near her was enough.

His fingers slipped the button into the loop with ease, his eyes trained on his task, while Hermione watched him, transfixed.

"Just my shirt then," she all but whispered.

His left hand once more held her hip to offer support as he bent down and fetched the thin skirt off her bed. He released his grip and scrunched the soft material to slip it over her head.

She knew he was going slow so as to be gentle and careful with her injured body but damn if his slow ministrations weren't driving her quickly to the brink of ecstasy. He was offering her kindness, just as she had shown to him, this was mere concern and yet it felt so deliciously indecent. She tried to ignore the heady rush but soon gave in and relished in his soft, tender touch. The bright warm sun on her bare skin, his body so close, his head bowed and gaze cast aside to preserve some of her modesty. As she watched him, his sharp angular features softened now in the morning sun, his dark lashes impossibly long, his hair shiny and softer than she had ever had a chance to notice before, his gentle scent of ink and juniper washing over her and setting her skin on fire.

"You feel quite warm, has your fever returned?" he asked softly, his velvety voice only adding to the raging fire.

"No, no, I'm fine," she lied as she released her grasp on his shoulder and bent her head forward so the shirt could go on.

The t-shirt caught on her mountain of hair and with a gentle tug her head popped out with her tangled mess catching in the collar. He smiled then as he reached forward and pulled the hair free, his eyes softening as his fingers grazed the smooth skin of her neck and the luscious tangles flowed through his fingers.

"Blasted hair," she softly cursed with a self-deprecating chuckle.

He smiled at this as he helped her carefully pull her one arm through the shirt and then focused his attention on her injured arm. Slowly and gently bending and then straightening the arm through the sleeve, Hermione suddenly shut her eyes and winced at the pain.

"Are you alright?" he inquired, halting his movement for fear of causing her any further discomfort.

A single nod met his query. "Just sore."

He pulled her shirt down and over her small, firm breasts, averting his gaze as best he could. Finally clothed, he stepped back from her, finding his body reluctant to do so. He gestured for her take a seat atop the bed.

She did as she was asked, and again he knelt, this time helping her with her shoes.

"I'm sorry to be such a burden," she murmured as she watched him slip each foot into her freshly cleaned sneakers.

"You are no such thing. I'm just happy I was here to help," he answered honestly as he set her feet atop his bent knee and double-knotted each lace, the same way her mother would have.

Watching such an accomplished wizard, such a powerful and amazing man do something so ordinary as tying her shoes, and in the inconvenient muggle-fashion, no less, it truly touched her to receive such a kindness.

"All done," he offered as he gently deposited her feet on the stone and stood once more.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, smiling up at him.

"My pleasure, Miss Granger," he offered and then paled considerably when he realized how that must have sounded.

"I meant... it was no trouble, Miss Granger. Thank you for allowing me to assist you," he said more smoothly trying to recover his usual imperviousness, but found it strangely missing.

The floo activated from Poppy's office just then and she stepped out of her doorway, dusting cobwebs from her apron and, holding a muggle arm sling in her hands.

"Sorry that took so long. This blasted thing was harder to find than I thought it would be. Ah, I see you're all dressed. Ready for your sling?" Poppy asked as she approached the pair, who were still quite close to one another.

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione relied, smiling and attempting to look normal although her heart was still pounding in her chest, her mind still focused on the way his hands felt on her body.

"I'll be just another minute, sir," Hermione offered politely.

"I'll wait in the hallway then. Take your time, Miss Granger," Severus said as he gave Poppy a friendly nod and turned to leave.

As he swept from the room, Hermione tried to focus on Madam Pomfrey but found she could not tear her eyes away from him. She stared after him until the door swung shut. Only then did she turn her attention to Poppy, who was eying her with a grin.

"Thank you, ma'am, as always, for being so kind. I'm so grateful for all the help," Hermione uttered, hoping to cover her blush.

"You're welcome, my dear. It's nothing you haven't done for all of us," Poppy pointed out as she set down her medications.

Hermione smiled as she eyed the door again and said softly, "Professor Snape sat here all night."

Poppy nodded and gave her a knowing look. "He was quite worried about you."

"He was?" Hermione asked, clearly not fully convinced.

Poppy let out a soft laugh, her eyes twinkling as she gently slipped the sling over Hermione's head.

"Sirius and Remus had to haul him out of here kicking and screaming yesterday just so I could work on you. He did not want to even leave your side, let alone entrust me to heal you. Wanted to do it all himself until I threw him out. Poor man was beside himself," Poppy uttered kindly as she adjusted the shoulder strap.

"Was he really?" Hermione asked, meeting the mediwitch's amused gaze with wide, disbelieving eyes.

Poppy smiled and sat down beside Hermione.

"He carried you across this whole castle and then refused to leave your side," Poppy admitted in a hushed tone.

"The whole castle? In his state? I had no idea," Hermione softly uttered, clearly taken aback by this. "Well, he is a brave man, after all. I shouldn't be surprised, I'm sure he's done countless kindnesses over the years for many," she said trying to dismiss how touched she was by his selflessness.

"Of course he has, deep down he is a good man with a good heart. But yesterday, seeing him with you, I've never seen him like that before. Like his heart was being ripped out," Poppy replied truthfully.

Hermione stared quietly at her hands as she took this all in, completely unable to comprehend his actions.

"Surely you're exaggerating, ma'am. It wasn't that serious," Hermione replied, dismissing once more the older witch's words.

Poppy clasped the young witch's hand then, her face becoming more serious as she frowned slightly.

"Dearest…it was very serious. You nearly-" Poppy stopped, looking away.

Hermione paled as the unspoken word hung there.

"I almost…. _died_?" she whispered, the word burning her throat.

Poppy met her gaze once more, this time her tired eyes glistening with tears.

"Had Severus not gotten you here as quickly as he did," Poppy said softly, her voice breaking, "and truthfully I have no earthly idea how he managed it with his leg, if he hadn't …I'm not sure you'd still be sitting here."

"Draco helped and so did I," Poppy admitted as she wiped away a tear. "But Severus is the one you should thank. He's the reason you're alive right now."

"He did this for me? I don't understand," Hermione admitted as the swirl of complicated emotions clutched tight at her heart.

Poppy smiled at her as she reached up and tucked an errant curl behind her ear.

"I think it's safe to safe you're the first person Severus has really cared about in a very long time, Hermione. Your friendship has seemingly brought out a side of him, a side that I've never seen in him before. He seems a changed man, he's lucky to have you," Poppy said with a smile.

"And I him, Madam. I'm the lucky one," Hermione uttered as her heart grappled with this new reality.

Poppy stood then and offered several healing potions, which Hermione gratefully swallowed, one after another. Her body feeling slightly better, her right arm tucked into the plush, white sling, Hermione walked gingerly out of the infirmary a few minutes later on sore legs, with a mind full of questions and a heart full of turbulent emotions. He found her potions master waiting for her, just as he had promised.

He stood beside a tall, stained-glass window, the tinted sunlight filtering in cast him in a million shades of blues and silvers. He leaned against the wall, his long legs crossed as he stared out at the grounds, seemingly lost in thought. The man who had saved her countless times, who had carried her and sat beside her all through the long night. Her first and only love, her savior, her friend. Her heart swelled with joy at the mere sight of him. As the door shut, he looked up, straightened his stance and smiled slightly as she joined him.

"Are you certain you're feeling up to this, Miss Granger? I would hate to see you fall ill once more," he carefully asked, still looking so concerned for her.

"Yes, sir, I'm feeling up to it. Thank you for letting me assist you," she smiled, her eyes sweeping across him with devotion and gratitude.

He offered another nod and stepped forward, offering his arm to the young lady.

"Shall we?"

She eyed him a moment, the words of the mediwitch floating through her mind, her own heart and head a mess of twisted thoughts and feelings and at this, she halted a moment.

"You…you really carried me yesterday? All the way here?" she asked disbelievingly.

Severus paused and then nodded.

"Most of the way, yes. Draco was too weak to do it."

"And then you… _you_ tried to heal me?"

He nodded again, lowering his arm and now looking bashfully at his feet.

"'Tried' being the opportune word. Poppy is the one who actually healed you, I wasn't able to."

"Poppy said…she said I almost…d-died," Hermione whispered, her voice suddenly choked with tears.

He wanted to clutch her tight and kiss away her every fear but instead simply said, "But you didn't. You're here now and you're safe."

"Thanks to you, I am," she uttered as the tears trickled down her face.

"Draco pulled you from the tower and Poppy healed you. I merely got you here in time."

"But if you hadn't been there-" she choked.

"But I was there… I'm always here for you," he plainly stated, his soot-black eyes holding her gaze with an intensity that neatly stole her breath.

It was true. He had always been there, to save her and bring her back from the brink. And his actions yesterday simply proved this once more. She felt stunned and humbled, not for the first time, to merely be in his presence.

His kindness, his loyalty, his consideration that he gave so freely, to her of all people, it felt too much at that moment and it all caught up with her. She couldn't stop from asking the one question she desperately needed to know the answer to, even more than she needed her next breath.

"Why? Why would do all of that…for _me_?"

The look of sheer incredulity on her lovely face caught him off-guard. She didn't know, she truly didn't understand just to what lengths he'd go for her.

"Because…" he paused, looking deep into her honey eyes and realizing that he didn't want to hide anymore, not from her…never from _her_.

"I did it because you're my friend. Seeing you so gravely injured, I…" he trailed off, not sure how he could tell her that his very heart, the one he had thought had long ago stopped beating, had sprung to life yesterday as he held her so tight in his arms.

"You saved me and we will be forever bonded by that, by your bravery and heart," he uttered as he stepped forward, standing right before her. "I'm sorry, truly sorry that I wasn't able to prevent what happened yesterday, but I promise you, I'll never, as long as I live, allow any harm to befall you again."

He reached down and clasped her hand once more, boldly claiming it as if it was meant only for him. Meeting her eyes again, he drew a deep breath.

"For, you see…you're quite important to me, Hermione," he quietly declared, staring into her depths with reverence and respect.

Her name, pouring so beautifully from his tongue, his words, so earnestly spoken, his heart, so open and frank, it moved her deeply to receive such an impossible and beautiful gift, one she knew he had rarely, if ever, given to another. She couldn't help but respond in kind.

She didn't stop herself this time, she stepped right before him and pulled him close, gently cupping his face and gave him a tender kiss on his cheek. Her soft lips lingered there a long moment against his skin, smooth against rough, soft against hard, as she whispered, "Thank you, Severus."

He closed his eyes at this and stilled, leaning into her soft touch and he felt for the very first time in forever, a peculiar joy, a singular happiness he didn't know still existed in this harsh world.

She pulled away, her eyes glistening and mouth set with a small smile.

He nodded, secretly cherishing the way his name sounded rolling off of her sweet lips, as if her saying it made it inherently worthy and imbued it with immutable virtue.

Completely gobsmacked and at a loss for words for once in his life, he stood up straight and offered his arm again for support. This time she slipped her arm into his, pulling her body close against him, closer than was necessary and smiled softly as he pulled her in even closer and rested his comforting hand atop hers. They set off for the dungeons without another word, the constant nagging doubts that usually plagued them, seemingly silenced for the moment.

 **A/N: I know several of you are following my dear friend,** ** _Marcella Dix_** **and her impeccable story, '** **Accommodations** **'. You probably noticed that we both updated recently and each of our stories had a scene where Severus dresses Hermione. She published her scene first and I discussed with her the coincidence that I had a similar scene in mind. She gave her full blessing for the moment I wrote above, so no plagiarism here, just a funny coincidence. Mad love to her for being my awesome friend and an awesome writer, do check out her amazing story, if you haven't yet.**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Hello, lovelies! Huge, heartfelt thanks for all the reviews, follows & favs and a special thanks to ****_Fraulein_** **_Takoor _****for catching a plot hole, I owe you big time :) For now, on with the story and a Happy Tuesday to you all :)**

* * *

 _His dark eyes took me in, and I wondered what they would look like if he fell in love._

 _-F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Love of the Last Tycoon_

The hallways were sunlit, the softest glow of warm summer sun just peeking over the evergreen mountains, as Hermione and Severus walked to the potions classroom, the former leaning on the latter quite heavily.

The hallways were also incredibly quiet, empty of both elves and students alike. The faculty in residence were still in the headmistress' office, busy with the morning meeting, and thus it felt as if they had the castle all to themselves. It was the kind of quiet that still surprised Hermione even though the battle had left it this way well over several weeks ago.

No chatter, no laughter, no extraneous noise at all, save for her own soft footfalls and that of her tall companion.

The usual _thump, thump_ of Professor Snape's cane was absent as well, adding to the curious lack of noise. She smiled at her companion, now able-bodied and seemingly have outgrown his use for it. Hermione hadn't realized how accustomed she'd become to the gentle thump until this moment.

"Sir, I just noticed, your cane is missing. Don't you need it for the long walk?" she inquired as they passed the Great Hall.

"I misplaced it yesterday during all the commotion," he admitted. "But I find I feel quite well this morning, I do not think I need it anymore."

Oddly enough, this was true. As he sat beside Hermione all night, he found his leg, which had vacillated between dull throbbing and sharp stabbing pain for weeks, gradually began to feel better as the morning approached. Walking now, no longer needing the cane for support and even feeling well enough to support her small frame, he felt almost back to normal, physically-speaking, which truly was a welcome change from his long bout of pain and disability.

She smiled at this, glad that at least one of them was making some substantive improvement. "That's wonderful to hear."

Silence fell once more as they descended the east wing stairwell, the stairs shifting and gliding beneath them and depositing them neatly on the second-floor landing.

Halfway down the next flight of stairs, Hermione winced as her leg once more began to ache. She gripped the banister and halted as the dull ached morphed into a sharp searing pain that traveled quickly up her thigh and through her back, causing her whole body to clench. Seeing her pained expression, Severus halted and put both hands on her sides to steady her.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" he asked, his eyes momentarily going wide to the point of all black, with pure, unadulterated concern.

Her eyes closed from the pain, she could note more acutely her other senses; how her body responded to the exquisite way his voice sounded as he uttered her name, how gentle his hands gripped her sides, how much worry and concern his voice could convey toward her. She wondered, not for the first time, why she deserved to receive his kindness.

"Hermione," he softly uttered once more, as his cool hand reached up to cup her flushed cheek. His tender touched sent a jolt of heat clear down to her toes and the simple act somehow managed to soothe the ache radiating up her leg or at least thoroughly distract her from the pain. This curiosity caused her eyes to open at last and meet his concerned gaze.

"Are you alright?" His velvet voice washed over her and she momentarily felt lightheaded.

"Yes, just...feeling a bit weak suddenly," she admitted, her face going slightly pale as sweat formed on her brow.

Severus frowned at this and silently cursed himself for his own selfishness and stupidity. He pulled a soft white handkerchief from his pocket and tenderly swept it across her brow, leaving the skin dry but still warm. He then placed the back of his hand against her forehead and frowned at the raised temperature he found there.

"It's my fault," he offered with an anguished sigh as he withdrew his hand. "Poppy told me not to perform magic upon you and I absolutely shouldn't have. But when I saw your back I…I just couldn't stop myself," he said softly.

"No, I'm glad you did, really," she offered, giving him a small, reassuring smile, as she leaned heavily upon the railing, willing her head to stop spinning.

"Still, when magic is performed on a weak body, it can exact a powerful toll, thus you're feeling of sudden weakness. I'm sorry," he said, "I just wasn't thinking."

She smiled at the very notion that he could be so swept away by his emotions that he'd fail to make a decision based on reason, something she herself had been guilty of when it came to this particular man. She smiled as she stood up, feeling a bit better after the brief rest and he offered her his arm once more.

She nodded, "Thank you."

As they traversed another broken hall and descended another winding staircase, she should've been thinking of what was causing this malaise, for she was certain, even without substantiated evidence, that there was indeed something larger at play, causing their magic to inexplicably ebb and flow without warning.

She should have been turning over possible routes of research beyond potential poisons, should it come that. The library was in shambles and thus she would no doubt need to order in books on various magical maladies. She should have been making a mental list of texts she would need.

At the bare minimum, she should have been mentally preparing for the potion she was about to help prepare, for brewing alongside a master, assisting him, having his mastery and expertise all to herself, it was a sincere privilege she did not intend to take for granted.

Yes, she should have been focused and diligent and all the proper things the world had come to expect from her.

But try as she might, Hermione simply couldn't do these things.

The way he held her close, his firm arm tucking so perfectly, protectively, around her own.

The way he helped her down each step, his fingers slipping down her side as he clutched her tight, bearing her weight as much as he could without actually picking her up and carrying her.

He never even uttered a word of impatience as she hobbled slowly down the old stones. He merely matched her careful gate and thoughtful silence in only the way a true friend could.

Simply holding her, choosing to hold her, no less, she found she couldn't summon any rational thought beyond how impossibly perfect it felt to be held by him.

She enjoyed how his body felt against hers, warm, firm, unyielding. She enjoyed it far too much to focus on anything else.

In a moment, they'd arrive at their destination and he'd no doubt pull away and the glorious warmth of his strong body against hers would go with it.

No, she'd have all day and night to ponder their curious health predicament, if indeed there was a larger issue at hand, and if so, all the additional work she would have to do to figure out this new and potentially daunting problem. So right now all she wanted to think about was how good it felt to be held, by him of all people.

As they reached the bottom floor, she could feel the air around her becoming drier and cooler, causing her previously flushed skin to suddenly prickle with goosebumps, a sure sign they were approaching the dungeons.

A rounded corner later, they arrived at the potions classrooms.

Crossing the threshold into the familiar room, Hermione felt a surge of warmth blossom deep within even though the room was predictably dark and cold.

Since working in here one week ago, the room had improved even further, with all of the student work tables fixed and stacked neatly against the far wall. Her professor's desk was likewise magically remedied, with the deep gouge that had previously marred the top, now vanished and the entire desk polished to a high shine.

Atop it now sat a large parcel, wrapped in simple brown paper with an elegant emerald stamp marked, ' _Gadworth's Apothecary'_.

Gathering the wrapped delivery in his capable hands, Severus turned and approached a solid stone wall. He wordlessly produced his wand, gently tapped it against one stone in particular and with this, the stone wall magically dissolved and revealed a secret oaken door. Hermione gasped slightly at the action but then smiled. Of course he would have a secret room. _Once a spy, always a spy,_ she mused to herself.

He pushed the heavy door open and entered the darkened room, motioning for Hermione to follow. All was pitch-black for a moment until an uttered " _Lumos_ " banished the darkness.

The spell revealed a small laboratory, rows of neatly organized glass bell jars filled with myriad ingredients lined the rows of shelving along the far wall. Scanning the unmarked jars from left to right, she realized with a smile, that the ingredients were alphabetized. Numerous plants, some tall and spindly, others squat and covered in bright, iridescent blooms, sat before a small magical window that provided sunlight. A long nonreactive metal table flanked the far right while the left side held shelving for several hundred texts and an adjourning doorway into a long and narrow closet full of even more jars and containers.

His private laboratory.

Glass, metal, wood and paper surrounded them. Utilitarian and purposeful, orderly to the point of obsession, and yet it felt neither cold nor clinical. The magical sunlight streaming in lent the space a warmth and a quiet comfort she hadn't expected. It felt like a well-loved and gracefully tended garden, full of beauty and wonder.

She knew he must've had a private space to work and brew but could not uncover it when she had last been down here to fix his private quarters. Of course he would have this beautiful oasis as a private retreat, a small, warm, little bright spot that he hid from the world, one that no one, until now, had known of. It suited him.

She watched from the doorway as he set the large parcel down atop the work table and swept into his storage cabinet to fetch more ingredients.

"Are we not brewing in your classroom?" she asked.

He shook his head as he walked back towards the worktable, arms now laden with more glass vials and jars.

"When I'm not teaching, I generally prefer to brew in here. It's a bit more quiet and secluded, fewer interruptions which, as you know, can prove disastrous for a potion and I store my more precious ingredients and equipment in here."

"You mean the cauldrons that haven't been melted and scorched to a crisp a thousand times by inept first-years?" she smiled.

"More like by inept seventh-years, but yes, that's right," he said with amused chuckle.

"Well, I'm honored you'd let me assist you, in your private lab, no less."

"You're actually my first visitor," he admitted, looking slightly embarrassed.

She gave him a genuine smile at this.

"It's lovely, sir. Thank you," she uttered sincerely as she drank in the space and entered it slowly.

He gave a nod and pulled two long, black aprons from a side closet. He effortlessly slipped one over his head and tied the strings behind his back. He then magically shortened and shrunk the second apron and approached her.

He carefully slipped this transfigured apron over her head, taking great pains to avoid her still healing arm and walked around to tie the strings.

"Do I really need this?" she inquired.

"You do, in fact. It protects you from injury should you blow up your cauldron," he smirked.

She turned slightly and gave him a quirked eyebrow of her own that caused him to chuckle slightly.

"I've never worn one before," she countered, slightly insulted that she would ever be in need of such a protective measure.

"You did not need to. While you were a student, your school robes were charmed to protect against hazardous spills and burns to your skin."

"They were?"

He gave a simple nod, meeting her eyes with a small smile. Those jet black eyes were so hypnotic, so beautiful and without end, she found it hard, at times like this, to look away from him.

"My doorway was enchanted to charm every students' robes against burns, both chemically-induced and those from steam or fire. They would enact as they entered and dissolve as they departed. You never noticed the flush of my magic at the start of each class?"

Hermione could clearly recall that exquisite tingle she felt when she crossed the threshold into his classroom. That lovely knot forming deep in her belly each time she found herself in his class, but never once had she thought it was due to anything but the longing she secretly held.

"Uh, no, I didn't," she lied, blushing a tad and looking away, pretending to examine his bookshelf.

His brow furrowed at her obvious lie but chose not to press it.

"This will work as a fine substitute," he declared.

"Thank you," she murmured as he finished tying her apron in place.

He gave a nod and said, as he stepped away from her, "I'll set up the workstation and then we can begin brewing."

With that, he walked to an opposite shelf to pull two large, heavy cauldrons and set them atop the work table. As he bustled around the small lab, extricating ingredients, various utensils and multiple texts, he could feel her eyes following him while she waited patiently and quietly on the edge of the room.

As more and more ingredients and thick tomes appeared atop the table, her eyes scanned the various vials present, she made the informed guess that he was brewing some permutation of a blood-composition potion, one meant to reveal not only naturally-occurring endogenous chemicals, like serotonin and adrenaline, but also any and all foreign substances in the body, including but not limited to, poisons. If they had indeed been poisoned, this would conclusively determine it.

It was a potion commonly-used by the wizarding medical field to ascertain sources of unknown infection or disease. St. Mungo's would certainly have this in stock but they couldn't very well floo-call and request any for their own use. Word of Hogwarts needing this type of diagnostic potion would spread like wildfire and rumors would soon spring forth of their potential malaise and as Minerva had firmly stated, secrecy was their best option at the moment.

"Are you inclined to think we've all been poisoned, sir?" she asked as he finally located the lamb thistle and desiccated beetle eyes and deposited them atop the workbench.

"No, but it must be ruled out," he said as he extricated several more vials from his private storage closet.

"And if there are no poisons detected?"she asked.

"Curses, next," he answered. "A hex is too insubstantial a magical harness to cause any type of prolonged damage," he commented as he found several texts from his bookshelf and placed them beside his ingredients.

She gave a nod, concurring with this line of reasoning.

"You also seem inclined to believe there is a larger problem at play here," he noted, more a statement than a question.

She gave another nod at this.

"Much like you, I have some concerns that can't be simply explained away by exhaustion," she conceded.

"Such as?" he inquired.

"Well, besides the overwhelming physical evidence that you, Minerva, Neville, Draco and myself have all been magically incapacitated, either in the manner of slow healing or outright magical energy loss, I also had, what I believe was, a worrisome conversation with Professor Dumbledore yesterday," she admitted, looking a bit concerned and uneasy.

"Worrisome? How so?"

"Well, before the morning meeting, I spoke with him prior to you arriving and he too seemed concerned about how weak we all were. And something about the way he dismissed my questions…. I don't know, he just seemed, at least to me, to be hiding something."

Severus stilled at this and a resigned sigh escaped his lips. "It wouldn't be the first time Albus hid information."

"But surely, if he had information that could be a help to us, he would have already said something, no?" she asked, not a tad bit disbelievingly.

Severus sighed again, realizing that the young woman still held Albus in a high regard, not knowing full-well, as Severus unfortunately did, just how secretive and Machiavellian the deceased headmaster could be.

And yet she had made a far point; if Albus did know something about what was causing this wide-spread energy loss, why wouldn't he say something? What did a dead man have to gain by keeping any more secrets? It all worried Severus more than he cared to admit.

He gave a reassuring nod to Hermione, her face still set in a tense frown, worry lines marring her face.

"After these potions are prepared, and we've ruled out poisons, we should speak with Albus. I'm positive that if he does actually have helpful information, he will share it," Severus said with what he hoped was an air of confidence.

But still, his young companion looked unsure.

"I don't know," she paused, carefully adjusting her arm sling and wincing slightly at the movement. "What if we're simply overreacting. After all, Minerva seems to think so," Hermione noted.

"My experience has taught me that it's always better to ere on the side of safety and overreact rather than under react," he replied, looking a tad vexed at the mere mention of the headmistress' take on the rather curious string of events that lead them to this predicament.

"Minerva is being cautious," he continued, "albeit in a different way. Right now we're simply speculating and she is right to not jump to any conclusions. Needless panic is the last thing we need."

His table now fully prepared, the last thing he did before setting the cauldrons over a low flame was to pull a wooden stool from beside the work table and set it down in the middle of the lab. He then gestured for Hermione to sit on it.

"Kindly sit, please."

"Pardon me?" she asked, clearly looking confused. "How could I possibly assist you if I'm stuck on a stool in the middle of the room?

"You can assist me by fetching the occasional ingredient or text but I must insist you be seated while I brew."

"But that's not fair at all, I-" she began, looking incredibly put-out.

"Stop," he gently replied, placing a tender hand on her sore elbow and leading her towards the stool. "You gave quite a convincing performance to Poppy but I know better. You're clearly still weak and should take it easy for now."

"I feel perfectly fine, sir. Please, don't baby me," she replied with a rather impressive pout.

"No whining, Hermione, or I'll turn you out," he stated simply, his lips set in a firm line, but one that wasn't entirely unfriendly.

Hermione relented and sat down with a sigh, secretly happy for the rest as her tender, sore legs still ached, although she refused to admit it.

 _Stubborn as the day is long_ , he mused to himself as he turned to begin work and she gave a sigh of relief at sitting down. _Much like myself, I suppose._

Thirty minutes ticked by painfully slow, as Hermione tried to surreptitiously lean forward for a better view. But each time her bum left her seat to have a look at the various ingredients, he seemed to possess eyes in the back of his head and would shoot her a look of acute annoyance mixed with concern, one she found both irritating and endearing.

"Ah, ah...I said 'seated' not 'hovering'," he intoned in that velvety, commanding voice. "I generously spared you a day in Poppy's rather tedious company so kindly return that favor by not passing out while in my laboratory."

She gave a huff of displeasure, "I feel fine. I can assure you I will not pass out."

"No. I'll not have Poppy come hunting for me when you fall ill once more."

She sighed again, hating be told what to do, even if it was by the man she adored.

"At least allow me to sit closer so that I can watch what it is you're doing rather than staring at your backside," she said, her voice sharp with annoyance.

But no sooner had the words left her lips, than she realized what she had implied.

His hands stilled over his cutting board, and his back stiffened.

She reddened considerably as he turned to face her and quirked his famous eyebrow, a small, disbelieving smirk pulling at his thin lips at her particular choice of words.

Those dark eyes glittering with foreign mirth, that challenging smirk, it was beyond enticing, it was one of the sexiest sights she had ever seen and it set her stomach in pleasurable knots as he stared at her.

"Care to rephrase that?" he teased, his thin lips curling into a smile, his eyes holding hers with a mixture of incredulity and amusement.

"I mean...I-I can't see around you, may I sit beside you at least?" she stammered as she tried to recover, her pale cheeks now the color of a late-summer tomato.

He sighed and took pity on her. She hadn't meant for it to come out that way, he was positive of it, and yet he couldn't help the small but palpable thrill that raced through his body at the mere thought that she might let her eyes linger upon him.

He pursed his lips and leaned against the worktable a moment, his eyes sweeping across her, seemingly trying to ascertain her health by mere sight alone.

She resisted the urge to squirm under that molten gaze and instead sat up a bit taller and held his gaze defiantly.

He smirked ever so slightly at this and walked towards her, stopping right before her.

"Kindly stand up," he softly uttered as he towered over her small frame.

She swallowed hard at how close he was and quickly stood from her stool, hoping to calm her heart and hide her impressive blush. He bent down, brushing lightly against her arm as he did so and picked up her stool. Carrying it, he set it down in front of the long worktable, situated just to his left, with a clear sweeping view of his brew and handiwork. He motioned for her to sit down once more.

"Better?" he inquired as she gingerly sat down once more.

"Much. Thank you, sir."

She sat beside him and watched with rapt attention now that she had a clear view.

Severus resumed his chopping and measuring in silence and she too kept quiet, respecting his need to concentrate. But he had known the girl far too long to not know how earnestly she wished to speak and actively participate in the process.

He could feel her mind whirling with questions she longed to asked, her able hand itching to work in some substantive way. He smiled inwardly at how hard she was working to control that inquisitive tongue and reign in her limitless curiosity.

"In addition to this diagnostic potion," he finally said, breaking the silence, "we will also need to brew a restorative potion, one that specifically helps with energy loss."

"Do you mean Pepper-Up potion?" she asked.

"No, not exactly. This potion works similarly to Pepper-Up, but rather than masking any exhaustion with additives, it works to actually heal the body, targeting the root causes of exhaustion, such as tissue weakness and muscle fatigue, thus aiding in physical healing and magical energy restoration. Should this malaise be the simple result of exhaustion, several rounds of this potion will help remedy it."

He pulled another large, heavy cauldron from beneath the workbench, but he set this one down directly before her.

"I'll prepare the ingredients, since I am in possession of two functional arms, and you'll brew this restorative potion. Does that sound agreeable?"

"Yes, sir! Thank you!" she beamed as she hurriedly stood and smiled at him, ecstatic to be given a proper job.

"It is quite complex a potion, far more demanding than what you've brewed while a student and it will take the better part of this day to accomplish," he warned but she only met this with an enthusiastic nod.

"I'm up to the challenge," she assured him.

She took her place beside him and he slid the brewing instructions before her, her eyes immediately perusing the text with an excitement he had rarely seen on anyone. The sight brought a small smile to his tired face.

"I know you're not left-handed, so if you find this too difficult-" he began, but she was having none of it.

"No, sir, I'll mange just fine," she replied with a confident grin.

They began to work together, a comfortable silence filling the small space as Severus precisely chopped, ground and measured the requisite ingredients and Hermione added them each, eyeing the time and cauldron with equal attention.

Not since his days as a young potions apprentice had he brewed beside anyone. These many years spent teaching, he had always brewed all the castle's stock of potions in here, alone, considering this space a sacred haven, far away from all the dunderheads he had been forced to instruct. The notion of sharing this space and his talent with anyone, not that there had ever been any inquires to do so over his many years in residence, would have been downright laughable, to both himself and anyone foolish enough to ask for it. That is, up until this morning.

Having her here now, so quiet and focused, her observant eyes watching his every movement with rapt attention, he somehow found himself completely at ease beside her.

The gentle scent of her shampoo, catching his attention every time she brushed a hand through the curly tendrils, damn how he loved that smell.

The delicate pout and curve of her plump, pink lips, catching his gaze out of the corner of his eye as he tried to concentrate.

The steady, relaxed rise and fall of her chest as she patiently stood beside him.

He found her presence not only bearable but, if he were an honest, open man, he could admit that he also found it immeasurably comforting.

For her part, Hermione kept a close eye on her cauldron, following his detailed instructions to the letter; stirring, adding, watching and waiting as she was told. But more than anything, she watched him.

Without his usual billowing robes to hide his form, she was able to clearly see his long, lean body, and found herself unabashedly staring at him as he swept busily around the small space.

How his legs carried him around the lab, strong and firm beneath his black slacks, the way he bent over to fetch ingredients, his boots tapping crisp against the stone, the outline of his broad shoulders through his white shirt.

The way his surprisingly delicate hands worked so efficiently, each movement so precise and crisp. His long pale fingers clutching a knife or carefully mashing a root, it was like watching a master artist working in clay or oil paints; everything he touched seemed transformed by his touch, made perfect and more beautiful somehow.

The sweep of his dark hair, the angle of his distinguished nose, his small, pink lips. His pitch black eyes catching hers every now and then, every glance felt so intimate and focused she had to repeatedly remind herself to breath at a normal rate.

She reveled in watching him so openly, under the safe pretense of assisting him. Drinking all of him in, his broad shoulders, his sharp profile, his concentrated gaze. He was simply magnificent to behold, at least she thought so.

She knew he wasn't traditionally handsome, too pale of skin, his other features too dark, his face a plane of sharp angles, a long, red scar creeping up along the left side of his neck, from beneath his shirt collar. He had, as always, a brooding, unapproachable air about him, his usual frown didn't help matters. But what would have turned others away, only pulled her in, inexplicably and powerfully.

For weeks now she could feel his countenance, his demeanor, every molecule of this enigmatic man, inexplicably softening towards her.

The way his voice would drop just a tad when he addressed her, momentarily losing its hard edge and leaving only velvety tones in its absence.

The way his usually sharp, critical gaze would hold hers with patience and understanding, his soot-black eyes taking on a rich, warmth depth.

She could have sworn this all meant something, something beyond simple repayment of a debt. His care towards her, while completely new coming from him, it felt natural, to her, like a perfect fit, like he was meant to be this way with her.

Perhaps these changes were imaginary, simple wishful thinking on her part. And she could have dismissed it all; his change in attitude, him fixing her bathroom, allowing her to sit with him and dine in the infirmary.

But then she nearly died, and the composed, polite relationship they had carefully crafted seemed to shift and crack wide open in some irreparable way.

Every step that followed from those bricks crashing down atop her, each touch, each glance, the mere fact that he had not left her side even once since she was injured, it all seemed to point to that immutable fact that his subtle, little changes towards her were not only real but also heartfelt.

And if his actions were not loud enough a declaration of a changed heart, his words helped remove any lingering doubt she may have harbored.

 _You're quite important to me, Hermione._

Those simple yet powerful words, earnestly whispered, not out of fear of being heard but out of insecurity and maybe even genuine need, they moved her in a way few ever had.

Tumbling, turning and twisting around her mind, causing her heart to beat faster and faster to the point of complete chaos, she could scarcely believe he had truly said them, to her of all people.

 _You're quite important to me, Hermione._

These words could be as simple or as complicated as she chose to make them. She should have tempered her elation and reigned in, forcibly if need be, her fluttering heart. She was getting carried away and she knew that only led to trouble.

Certainly he had meant to express his gratitude, his appreciation of her hard work and acknowledge that they were now indeed friends.

And yet, there was a longing in these words, both in way they were spoken and in the way they were received, a longing so sharp and so acutely present that she found she was reluctant to admit it, even to herself. She wanted these words to mean so much more, she wanted them to mean everything. For he was quite important to her too, far more important than she had ever been brave enough to admit to anyone. Even her reluctant admission to Sirius that she had deeper feelings for her potions master wasn't the whole truth. It didn't feel like a simple crush or infatuation, it felt like a wave that had swiftly and silently pulled her under, her feet having left the firm ground years ago.

Along with a racing heart, these words called forth an odd memory.

She added the juniper extract he handed her, stirred the addition seven times, counterclockwise, as instructed, and let herself be taken by the memory that came forth.

Her thoughts had wandered, strangely enough, to her father and one of the last afternoons they had spent together in the summer leading up to her fifth-year.

 _While Hermione laid sprawled across the plush, grey Berber carpet in her parents' sunroom, her father came in through the double-French doors, leading out to their lush garden and garage. He poked his head in and saw his daughter happily reading and smiled._

 _"_ _C'mon and help your old man, I'm going to give Marley a wash."_

 _"_ _Dad," she had plaintively whined, "I have loads of reading to do." Gesturing to the sizable amount of old texts that were scattered around her._

 _But her father merely waved off this excuse._

 _"_ _Oh, you've got your whole life to read. Come and help me wash her. You're never around anymore, I have to do it all by myself the rest of the year."_

 _She sighed, lowered her book and gave him a quirked eyebrow._

 _"_ _Really? Using guilt to get me to help?"_

 _"_ _No, I don't suppose I should, that is after all more your mother's forte," he said with a smirk._

 _"_ _Well, how about a bribe? How about you help me and I'll take you for a peppermint sundae?" he whispered conspiratorially, glancing around for any sign of his better half._

 _Hermione gave him a shocked look at this. While both of her parents were devoted dentists and each publicly touted the values of a low-sugar diet, Paul Granger had a closeted-sweet tooth that could rival any child's. Toffees in his briefcase, chocolate bars discreetly stowed in the back of the icebox. He was an expert in hiding such contraband from his far more prudent wife. But Hermione knew better, had in fact discovered all his loot over the years for she too loved any type of confection, much to her mother's consternation. He'd often tow the line set by his wife but every once and a while he and his daughter would make a break for it and secretly indulge._

 _She closed her book, looked through the hallway to make sure her mother was still safely ensconced in her home office and leaned forward to whisper._

 _"_ _You won't tell mum?"_

 _"_ _Just our little secret, what do you say?"_

 _"_ _Deal," she smiled._

 _She quickly gathered and neatly stacked her Runes and Transfiguration texts atop the marble coffee table and followed her father out to the drive way, a small smile tugging at her lips as her father pulled his sweet girl in for a kiss on her forehead._

 _Standing in her usual spot was Marley, her father's beloved 1968 Jaguar, gleaming in the summer sunshine in all of her racing-green glory._

 _The afternoon sun rose high in sky as Hermione diligently washed, dried, vacuumed and waxed her father's 'other baby'._

 _Her button nose and slim shoulders slightly sunburnt and her fingers pruned from sudsy car soap, Hermione slid into the red-checkered booth at Elard's ice cream shop several hours later with a happy sigh. A small, plump woman in her early forties took their orders and delivered two identical peppermint sundaes, each piled high with whipped cream and candied cherries, atop a mountain of neon green ice cream. That first bite of sweet peppermint, mixed with gooey fudge sauce was sheer perfection after weeks at home with no sweets._

 _She sighed as she happily dug in._

 _They sat there for hours as they chatted about school, which classes she enjoyed the most and their plans for a summer trip to Spain. It was simple and delightful and it made Hermione feel normal, for once, the looming war and all the terror it held felt a whole world away._

 _As the waitress appeared again and deposited the check on the table, Hermione's father cleared his throat, a foreign look of discomfort crossing his face._

 _"_ _So tell me…are there any young men who have caught your fancy?"_

 _"_ _Dad!" Hermione gasped, immediately reddening at his rather bold topic of interest._

 _"_ _What? Can't I talk to my only daughter about her love life?" he asked innocently as he pulled several bills from his wallet and placed them atop the check._

 _"_ _No! You can't actually!"_

 _"_ _Oh, c'mon, you can tell your old man anything. I used to be young once, back when the crust of the earth first cooled. I can remember what it's like to be fifteen," he said with a smirk._

 _Hermione smiled and fiddled with her spoon, looking away._

 _Her father sighed and smiled._

 _"_ _So…no special guy?"_

 _She blushed further and thought of her professor and felt her breathing quicken at the mere thought of him._

 _"_ _I…I mean…there's one guy. But it's more a one-sided thing," she bashfully admitted, looking out the window at the busy street._

 _"_ _How do you know for sure? Maybe this young man likes you as well."_

 _She smiled sadly and shook her head._

 _"_ _He doesn't, Dad. I mean…he's shown me some kindness before but more often than not, he can be a bit dismissive and rude to me," she admitted._

 _Her father chuckled at this, "Boys can be like that sometimes."_

 _"_ _Were you like that when you met mum?"_

 _Paul Granger chuckled again, "No, I was far too smitten to do anything but follow her around like a puppy."_

 _"_ _Ah, so some men can be direct?" she countered with a smirk._

 _"_ _Only the good ones," he replied as he finished the last of his sundae._

 _He looked away at this, his face betraying a rare look of uncertainty._

 _"_ _This seems a bit of an odd topic for us," she carefully noted. "Is something the matter, Dad?"_

 _He sighed as he looked at his lovely daughter once more._

 _"_ _You're my only little girl and I just want to know that…one day, when you fall in love-"_

 _"_ _Dad!" she hissed dolefully. She love her father dearly but this conversation was veering into a territory she had no desire to discuss with anyone, let alone her middle-age father. After all, what could he know of her heart, her longing, her pain?_

 _"_ _No," he uttered firmly, looking suddenly serious, "let me finish what I have to say, if only for my own peace of mind."_

 _Her father wasn't often serious, often preferring to joke around than engage in serious discussion. So when his demeanor changed, Hermione relented and gave a reluctant nod for him to continue._

 _"_ _One day," he continued in earnest, "you will fall in love and I just need to know that when you do, it's with a good man."_

 _"_ _Dad, I have more important things on my mind than boys," she said, crossing her arms and suddenly feeling defensive._

 _"_ _I know that, dearest. I've never pegged you for one of these flouncy girls who dreams of nothing but finding Mr. Right._

 _"_ _And you're smart to focus on your education and career first. Truly, it makes me beyond proud to know you have a good head on your shoulders."_

 _"_ _So then why all this talk of love?" she countered more sharply than she had intended._

 _"_ _I guess what I'm trying to say is," he paused, looking uncertain a moment before settling upon the right words. "There's a million boys out there that seem like they're good. They might have money, connections and good looks, they might be charming with nice cars and they might come from the best families. But these things don't always add up to being a good person._

 _"_ _A good man is one who will respect you, look out for you, value you for your wit, your intelligence, as well as your considerable beauty."_

 _"_ _Dad, stop, I'm no beauty-" she said rather dejectedly._

 _"_ _Oh, dearest, of course you are."_

 _"_ _You're my dad, you have to say that," she offered with a wry smile._

 _"_ _No, I don't. I'm saying it because it's true._

 _"_ _And when the times comes, another man will say it to you and they'll mean it with all their heart. They won't hide their feelings, they'll be so proud and overjoyed to tell you just how beautiful and utterly perfect you are, because you'll mean everything to them. You'll be the most important thing in the whole world to them and that's how you know you've found the one you're meant to share your life with."_

 _Hermione felt her throat burn and tears unexpectedly well in her eyes. She had longed to hear these beautiful utterances from her professor but deep down she feared she would never hear these things. It stung now to realize this so acutely._

 _"_ _That sounds like such a fairy tale, Dad. Too impossible a thing to believe in," she quietly uttered, feeling vulnerable and exposed._

 _"_ _Impossible? This from the girl who can perform actual magic? I didn't think 'impossible' was a part of your vocabulary."_

 _She chuckled at this and eyed him once more._

 _"_ _Just promise me, love. Promise me that as you get older and start dating, or sleeping with people-"_

 _"_ _Dad?!" she quietly hissed, blushing deeply._

 _"_ _I'm not an idiot, dearest. I know it will happen at some point. So I just want you to know, that no matter who you might date or 'acquaint' yourself with," he offered a bit more delicately, "just save your heart for a good man. You're such an amazing person, you deserve that. That's all I'm asking. Never settle when it comes your heart. That's too precious a part of yourself to just give away."_

 _He reached forward then and gave her small hand a tight squeeze. She wanted to refuse him, after all, this imagined scenario of men, both worthy and less so, vying for her heart seemed so highly implausible that it bordered on pure fantasy. But as she held her father's hand, something in the way he looked at her told her she should believe in this pure notion of love, even if it felt impossible._

 _"_ _I will, Dad. I promise, I will," she finally offered with a slight smile._

 _He nodded at this, immediately looking a bit lighter, his easy countenance returning once more._

 _"_ _I make this promise to you on the strict understanding that you promise to never talk about me being 'acquainted' with anyone ever again," she retorted with a smirk._

 _"_ _I promise, dearest," he said with exaggerated impatience, "I'll leave all 'the birds and the bees' to your mum. It's just," he said more softly, a gentle, wistful smile pulling at his lips, "you're simply growing up so fast and sometimes I worry I won't have the time to tell you and show you all the things you need to know."_

 _"_ _I'm not going anywhere," she said with a warm smile._

 _He gave a nod at this and glancing at his watch, he said, "C'mon, sweet pea, let's get home before your mother sends out a search party. Wouldn't want dinner to get cold," he offered as they slid from the booth. "I think she's making that odd tofu dish again with the eggplant."_

 _Hermione winced, "I sincerely hope she gives up this vegetarian kick soon."_

 _"_ _Oh darling, you and me both," he prayed._

 _As they left the cheery parlor and walked back to the car, her father fished the car keys from his pocket and said, "Catch," as he tossed her the set._

 _She caught them with ease but gave him a perplexed look._

 _"_ _Why don't you drive us home," he called as he settled into the passenger seat and looked at his shocked daughter expectantly._

 _"_ _Are you sure? I've only practiced around the block and only in mum's car," she uttered in disbelief. No one had ever driven 'Marley', expect her father and the German collector he had bought her from._

 _"_ _I'm sure. You're more than ready to do this," her father smiled back, looking perfectly confident in his daughter as he slipped on his sunglasses._

 _She slipped behind the wheel and felt nerves clutch at her. Her mother's sensible Volvo seemed far easier and less intimidating a vehicle to drive than her father's beloved vintage sports car._

 _"_ _You've got this, just easy on the clutch," he offered with a smile._

 _A deep breath and a turn of the key later, and they were on their merry way. They drove home in that shiny, racing-green sports car, slow and easy as the late summer sun set, casting the sky in a brilliant array of golds and pinks. Traffic was light for the most part and Hermione soon found her nerve disappearing as she drove further and further. The warm wind flowing through her curls, and she felt, if only for that ten minutes behind the wheel, she felt happy, carefree and safe as the normalcy of adolescence enveloped her and cast the rest of her worries aside._

It was of one of her last happy memories, pure and free of sorrow. Although she had felt thoroughly embarrassed at the time, she was now so thankful her father had said what he had. For so many years she thought herself such a hopeless fool for the longing she held, truly believing it to be a perfect impossibility. But now she found herself here and Severus' words and actions couldn't have been more clear.

 _You're quite important to me, Hermione._

Severus appeared once more by her side and handed her a fresh stirring rod to tend to the potion. His words and those uttered by her father so many years ago collided forcibly in her mind. It seemed neither she nor her father had been fools after all. Maybe she thought, glancing at the man beside her now, maybe his heart could be hers, with time.

 _You were right, Dad,_ she thought with a small smile. _I can hardly believe it, but damn if you weren't right._

 _~~~~0000~~~~_

Several hours quickly ticked by, the pair focused as they worked like a well-oiled machine, with each of their respective potions progressing nicely.

Eyes focused on her cauldron, Hermione had failed to notice, that the heat from her potion had caused her hair to frizz and soon it surrounded her like a halo. She blew out a puff of air as a stubborn strand continued to fall into her face repeatedly.

Severus, keeping one eye on his potion and one eye on her, couldn't help but watch the simple scene over and over again.

The strand would fall right before her right eye, impeding her view of her work.

Her narrowed eyes and pursed lips immediately gave away her growing sense of annoyance.

Her reddened, plump lips would purse into a prefect o-shape and a small puff of breath would escape her lips as the offending curl would temporarily be blown back into place with the others.

But every few minutes, the stubborn strand would fall again and he couldn't help but inwardly smile at the witch beside him and her growing sense of annoyance.

"May I?" he finally asked, his voice soft and smooth as he gestured at her hair.

"Pardon me?" she asked, looking clearly confused.

"May I tie your hair back for you? You seem uncomfortable with it down."

"I, um...well yes, I'm warm but you do not need to trouble yourself, I'll make due."

"It's no trouble, please...allow me," he asked once more, setting his stirring rod down.

"I don't have a hair tie with me," she said rather sheepishly, silently kicking herself for not finding some way to tie her hair back earlier, broken arm notwithstanding.

At this, he pulled on the cuff of his shirt until a single white thread came free. Laying the thread flat on the table, a muttered spell caused it to instantly elongate into a thick ribbon. Another muttered spell and the pure white darkened and changed into a rich, supple red.

"Kindly turn around," he asked, picking up the ribbon.

She did as he had asked and turned from him, blushing once more as she felt the heat from his body at her back.

"Forgive me for using a ribbon. I know young ladies today prefer those elastic ties, but they seem to snap and break so easily. But a ribbon rarely tears," he noted as his fingers began to slowly gather the wild strands.

She smiled at his gentleness and ingenuity.

"That's what my mother had always said. When I was little she put my hair into pigtails each morning because my hair was so unruly and she would tie off the ends with red gingham ribbons. Every single day," Hermione recalled, her voice dipping ever so slightly as she thought of her sweet mother's daily battles with her wild mane.

"Smart lady, your mother."

"Indeed," she agreed. "Might I ask…why did you make it a red ribbon?"

He chuckled softly as he gathered more hair, being careful not to pull too hard or catch his fingers on any knots.

"You're a Gryffindor, are you not? I assumed you liked red."

"I do actually, thank you. I just…" she began and then stopped.

"What?" he asked.

"I thought you would have made it green," she mused.

He chuckled softy, the velvety timbre of his deep voice a lovely, rare sound, one she was quickly growing accustomed to.

"In the eight years I have been in your acquaintance, I do not think I've ever seen you once wear green. Lots of reds and pale pinks if i recall correctly. Even periwinkle on occasion but never green."

"How did you know that?" she asked, her curiosity piqued at his rather exceptional memory.

"Just something I noticed over the years," he remarked lightly.

His nimble fingers caressed the soft skin of her neck as he carefully gathered up each and every stubborn strand, gently pulling the hair into a single bundle at the nape of her neck.

The kinky, soft curls gliding across his fingers, he smiled inwardly at how incredibly soft it felt, wrapping around his hands, bathing his fingers in fragrant silkiness.

His fingers combing through her thick, curly hair grazing her scalp, straightening out the knots and lumps with ease, he fastened the ribbon just right, not too tight and not too loose. Simply perfect.

"Thank you, sir."

"Please, I-" he began.

"Yes?" she turned to face him.

He drew a deep breath and held her gaze.

"If I may be candid, I.." he paused, gathering his courage, "I liked it earlier when you called me by my given name. We're no longer teacher and student, we're friends now, so if you could...please, call me 'Severus' from now on. No more 'sir' or 'professor," he stated. It was a simple request but the look on his face, one of openness and sincerity, told her that this wasn't an act of polite curtesy, but something he truly wanted from her, maybe even needed from her. And it was another step she wanted as well.

She gave a nod and replied, "Thank you...Severus."

"My pleasure," he softly murmured and this time he didn't correct himself. It was his pleasure to help her, to touch her, to simply be near her and he wanted her to know that.

They were snapped from their reverie suddenly when Winky appeared in the small lab with a 'pop'.

The small elf carried a large tray full to the brim with tea, various sandwiches and an array of freshly-cut fruit. She set it down atop a nearby work bench and smiled up at Hermione.

"Madam Pomfrey ordered you lunch special, Missy Granger. She said no more work for you until you eat," Winky offered, her ears tucked down apologetically.

Hermione wiped her hands on her apron, sighed and knelt down next to the small elf, putting a soft hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you, Winky," Hermione said sincerely to the sweet, shy elf. "It's very kind of you to bring this. I always appreciate how well you take care of me. But please tell Madam Pomfrey that I'll eat when I'm damn well ready," Hermione said with a defiant quirk of her mouth.

Winky's head snapped up and her mouth fell open at the request and looked horrified at having to repeat these particular words to the mediwitch. Severus merely smirked at the young woman's words, surprised and quietly impressed by her boldness.

The house elf replenished the wood in the stand near the grate and surreptitiously slipped out through the floo, leaving the pair in silence once more.

Hermione, eyeing the standing _Tempus_ charm she had suspended in the air above her cauldron, knew she had several more hours of work ahead of her before the potion would be set aside to steep and reach its full potency. She returned once more to her cauldron, ignoring the food.

"I'm heartened to see that I am not the only one resisting Poppy's smothering tendencies," Severus noted with a good bit of mirth.

She smirked ever so slightly. "It's good of Madam Pomfrey to worry, but it seems to be all she ever does. I think she forgets that I'm no longer a student and can therefore no longer force me to do anything."

"I believe she is patently incapable of treating any former student as an actual adult. I'm certain she still views me as a student, for Merlin's sake."

Hermione smiled at this.

"I forget that you were once a student here," she mused as she stirred in additional Murtlap essence.

"I'm not that old," he retorted with crossed arms as he sat down upon the stool beside the table, quirking his lips in mild vexation.

"My apologies, Severus," she offered with a slight laugh, "I did not intend to imply that you are old in any way, shape or form. I simply meant, I've always thought of you as being such an authority figure, it's hard to imagine you as a student. Running late to Charms class or forgetting to write a Defense essay," she mused.

"I never forgot to write a single essay, I can assure you," he said with a smirk.

She chuckled softly at this and eyed him with a good bit of mirth, "No, I can't imagine

you did."

Her laugh. It entranced him, some secret, strange part of him awakening, rejoicing even, to the sound. Why did it pull at him so? Perhaps because he had rarely seen or heard it over the years. It was as light and gentle as a spring breeze and as rich and deep as a church bell. He wanted to hear it over and over again, bath in the sound until he knew it by heart.

She smiled a bit shyly, her golden brown eyes holding his and he felt himself smile at the sight.

"I need to fetch a book from my classroom," he offered as he stood and stepped away from the table. "Please keep a close eye on your cauldron. Once it turns crimson, monkfish scales will need to be added. I'll return in just a moment."

She smiled and nodded as he left, his boots clicking crisply against the stone.

He quietly closed the door to the private lab and once firmly shut, leaned against it, closed his eyes and drew a deep breath.

It felt so natural to have her here, her scent, her soft voice, her gentle presence.

He liked having her there, he truly did. Even a single day alone with her here had convinced him firmly of that simple truth. He had grown so used to the aching loneliness he didn't realize until now how much he hated the absolute solitude.

He shook the strange thoughts from his mind and sighed as he pulled himself from the door, trying hard to focus on his potion. He walked across the classroom to his floor-to-ceiling bookcase in search of Middleschmert's thirteenth-century translation of the original blood-composition potion.

As he scanned his shelves for the volume in question, his thoughts were interrupted by a gentle ' _tap, tap_ ' on his classroom door.

No one but Minerva, Poppy and Winky knew they were brewing in here today. Winky would've simply apparated into his classroom and he knew Minerva and Poppy to both be quite busy.

Frowning at having been disturbed, he strode to the classroom door, curious as to who might be visiting him and opened it to find Narcissa standing before him.

"Sorry to bother you, Severus. Madam Pomfrey is evidently out of pain tonic at the moment, and I have a splitting headache. She mentioned you would have some, so I thought I might fetch it myself," she said with a warm smile.

His frown grew as he reluctantly admitted, "I do have that, yes." But with his body blocking the doorway and him making no move to fetch the tonic, Narcissa gave him a questioning look.

"Might I have some?" she inquired with a puzzled smile, giggling slightly at him.

"Of course, come in," he offered as he finally remembered his manners stood aside to allow her admittance. He found himself in the new and unfamiliar situation of being reluctant to let anyone in and steal his time with Hermione, it suddenly felt too precious a thing to squander.

He quickly swept to the large storage closet in his classroom and found several vials of pain tonic and returned to find Narcissa standing before his bookshelf, her long, pale lithe frame a stark contrast against the dark dungeon.

He handed her the vials but she seemed reluctant to leave, seemingly content to gaze at his extensive collection of German botanical reference guides.

"How is Draco feeling this morning?" he inquired as he tried to steer her towards the door.

"Still sore, but better," she said with a relieved smile. "He insisted on working today even though Pomfrey strongly urged him to rest. He's off right now with Potter and the Longbottom boy, working in the Great Hall, I believe. I don't know what's gotten into him to be honest. Suddenly seems hell bent on working," she said with a bemused expression.

"That's good, the work will do him wonders," Severus replied, hoping that was all she wanted to talk about and would thus take her leave.

"Perhaps. Merlin knows Lucius was never a fan of such endeavorers." At the mention of her husband's name, her face darkened and her mouth, usually set in a thin line, set itself even tighter still, giving her a grim expression.

 _Ah, Lucius,_ he realized. So that's what this little visit was about.

"And how are you fairing? Feeling alright?" Severus gently asked, but given her sallow complexion, the dark rings set deep beneath her tired eyes, he already knew.

"Oh, of course, right as rain," she offered with forced cheer. "Thank you for these," she gestured toward the vials. "I should be getting back to the library before Irma comes looking for me."

As she shoved the vials into her robe pockets, a small, dirty envelope fell out onto the floor.

Severus immediately bent to pick it up, but Narcissa had crouched down as well and they both reached for the letter at the same moment, their fingers brushing.

Severus withdrew his hand and Narcissa smiled as they both stood. She quickly clutched the letter in her hand, but not before Severus saw the small, neat, familiar writing on the front on the envelope.

"Is that from Lucius?"

"Yes," she softly admitted, "he sends letters every day. One to Draco and another to me."

"I was unaware that prisoners were allowed to send letters."

"Well, this new benevolent minister has deemed it a _mercy_ ," she said rather acidly, her face set with raw anger.

"How is he?" Severus asked but again, he knew the answer.

She looked away as tears bubbled up suddenly.

"I don't know. I honestly haven't read them in weeks," she uttered sadly, her voice cracking and thick with emotion.

"I did, at first, wanting to know how he was fairing," she said as she traced his husband's delicate handwriting with the tip of her finger, her eyelashes thick with unspent tears.

"But after a while, I just had to stop," she admitted, roughly shoving the envelope back into her pocket and straightening up. She quickly brushed away the tears but the evidence of her heartbreak still lingered upon her elegant visage, her eyes now reddened, her usual pale cheeks now splotchy, her impeccable make-up now marred.

"In truth, it just makes it worse...having to read his words, how sorry he is, how much he misses us, _misses me_ ," she spat, her anger now clear and unmistakeable. "I can't bear his apologies right now, especially when everything is in such a state."

Seeing her so distraught, Severus sighed and placed a gentle hand to her elbow, trying to reassure her.

"I know he loves you, dearly so. And what he did or did not do, it was done to protect his family. I'm sure he's sorry, Narcissa."

"Not as sorry as I am," she countered, the angry tears once more getting the better of her as they spilled again down her tired face.

Severus felt his chest tighten as he stepped forward and embraced his oldest friend's wife. She leaned into him, burying her face in his chest and let the tears finally flow freely.

He held her for several long beats, allowing her the relief she so clearly needed from being the grand Narcissa Malfoy the world saw her as. But the longer she sobbed and remained firmly stuck against him, the more he longed to run from her. For holding her didn't feel right, not in the least. It made his chest ache and his heart clench for the woman who brought him true comfort and understanding, the woman who was helping him once more in the adjoining laboratory, not the one holding him tight.

Before the final battle, Lucius had made him swear to look out for Narcissa and Draco should he not make it through the war unscathed. And so Severus, being a man of his word, stood and held her and let her weep, being the dutiful friend once more to the Malfoys, even though it pained him to do so.

Her sobbing gradually subsided and she moved her hand from her face to rest it gently against his firm chest, her head resting there as well.

"Thank you for this, Severus. I appreciate your diligence and care, always," she murmured, finally pulling back to look at him with reddened eyes.

"I'm here, Narcissa, should you need anything else. I'm always here for your family," he offered earnestly, wanting to stay true to his word even if it was the last promise he ever wished to make.

"Thank you, Severus," she said sincerely, reaching up and tenderly cupping his cheek.

"You've always been one of the few people that I knew I could count on," Narcissa said with a sad smile. She pulled him close and before he could register what she was doing, she gave him a gentle kiss on his cheek, her cool lips resting there a moment.

"Severus, the potion has turned-" Hermione called out as she pushed on the heavy laboratory door and entered the classroom.

Severus' head snapped up at the sound of her voice, he quickly pulled himself from Narcissa's tight grasp, but the damage was done.

Hermione stood frozen there at the edge of the classroom, a look of shock, tinged with embarrassment painting her young face. All the happiness that had been there just minutes ago was now gone.

"Pardon my interruption, sir. But I can not seem to find the monkfish scales and you said it must be added promptly," Hermione said, her voice quiet and her eyes cast towards the floor.

"I'll come and fetch it in a moment, Hermione," Severus said, feeling the heavy, inexplicable weight of guilt settling atop him.

Hermione gave a quick nod, turned and left the classroom quickly, shutting the door to the laboratory with a smart snap that reverberated around the barren classroom.

"I guess I should apologize, as well," Narcissa said with a smile, interrupting his anguished thoughts. "I didn't mean to interrupt your brewing. I'll let you get back to it," she said with a warm smile as she gave him one last friendly squeeze of his hand and disappeared back down the corridor.

He shut the classroom door once more and leaned heavily against it, rubbing at the knot that suddenly formed in the back of his neck.

He grappled for a moment with the sudden turn of events.

Narcissa's advances, was it a case of simple need and loneliness, he wondered, or was there more to it? He wasn't sure.

And more curiously, Hermione's reaction to finding him holding another woman. The look she gave when she found him, the way her face fell, that beautiful smile disappearing as a look of pure hurt flickered across those brown eyes.

It was so quick he couldn't be sure what he had seen but a nagging thought at the back of his mind told him that there was more than just simple embarrassment behind her anguished response.

His mind swirled with impossible thoughts as he marched quickly across the classroom, took a deep, steadying breath and entered the lab once more. Hermione stood at the table, facing away from him her head down, her left hand methodically stirring the potion.

He wordlessly approached the table and stood beside her, quiet a long beat, and still she did not say a word or even look at him.

"Narcissa came unexpectedly for a pain tonic. My apologies for the delay,"

he uttered softly.

Hermione only gave nod, her head down as she stirred her potion.

"I'm sorry she interrupted us, I didn't know she was coming."

"It's none of my business, Professor," she uttered, her tone a bit sharp. Severus couldn't help but notice she had reverted to his formal title, rather than his given name. He couldn't help but feel the sting.

He paused a moment, feeling the need to explain that the hug meant nothing, that her kiss was mere polite affection, but he found the words trapped firmly in his throat.

Could his young friend possibly have interrupted the display as romantic?

And if she did, why would she care?

Before he could grapple with either question though, she spoke.

"The monkfish scales, sir," she said again, her voice suddenly firm and lacking the warmth he had come to expect and even secretly crave.

"Of course," he replied as he crossed to the storage cabinet and searched for the necessary ingredient, feeling completely dejected.

As he left her side, she closed her eyes and drew a deep, steadying breath. She needed to stay calm and keep it together. Emotions needed to be kept in-check and controlled at all costs. Her embarrassment, her heartbreak, that all needed to be firmly locked up.

The only emotion to slip past her iron-tight self-control, and run free to her heart's content, was the anger she had at herself. She sighed gently, she couldn't help berating herself.

 _You utter fool,_ she angrily hissed over and over again in her mind. _You stupid, foolish girl._

 _To think he could want you, love you, even. You really are hopeless._

She wanted to cry at her idiocy. Of course he would care for Mrs. Malfoy, they were dear friends from the looks of it and had known each other for several decades. It made sense, really. Narcissa was polished and poised, elegant and erudite. She was, in short, everything Hermione was not and never would be.

Hermione angrily swallowed her tears, adamantly refusing to lose what precious little dignity she had left.

As Severus appeared once more beside her and handed her the quarter ounce of finely flaked scales she required, she took it without a word and kept her reddened eyes trained on the cauldron.

She dumped it in quickly and did what she always did when her heart was aching, she threw herself into her work.

Severus returned to his cauldron and focused, too, noticing how much different this silence felt; heavy, uncomfortable, and full of anger.

He couldn't help but notice how much lonelier he felt even though she stood so near.

 _~~~~0000~~~~_

The sun was soon dipping in the late afternoon sky and Hermione longed to finish this wretched potion and flee the small lab. Another hour of tending to it and she was finally able to do just that.

"I do believe my potion is ready," she said, gesturing to the bubbling cauldron, full of azure-blue, shimmering liquid.

Severus stood and approached the cauldron, which caused Hermione to step back, leaving him ample space to examine her work. He sighed inwardly at this as his eyes cast a discerning glance at the contents. He lifted a single spoonful and pronounced, "Yes, this will do. Excellent work, Hermione."

She winced slightly at his praise. How many years had she longed to hear that she was adequate in his eyes, that her hard work resulted in a 'decent brew' let alone an 'excellent one'?

She bit back the angry tears and said, "Very well, sir. I'm feeling quite tired and my arm is still aching, so if you don't mind, I'm going to head to the infirmary for more medication."

She quickly removed her black apron and deposited it across the empty end of the worktable.

"Would you like me to walk you there?" he gently asked, a look of foolish hope plastered across his face.

"No," came her firm reply. "I'll be just fine on my own."

The last thing she did was to remove the thick, red ribbon from her hair and lay it gently atop the table, beside her apron.

Seeing it lying there, he felt his throat close tight. "You could've kept it," he said sadly, looking right at her.

"I don't keep things that aren't mine," she said softly, pointedly looking away.

At this she turned and walked towards the door. As her hand pushed against the wood, he called out, "Good night, Hermione."

"Good night, sir," came here crisp reply and then she was gone.

She slammed his laboratory door shut and proceeded to jog out of his classroom, the faint echo of her sneakers hitting the stone forcibly, echoing even through the thick door.

The sound stopped Severus where he stood. That sound of sneakers racing away, pounding against the floor, it felt familiar somehow.

He forcibly quieted his mind and he really focused on the noise, replaying it over and over in his mind, knowing that it was somehow important.

Completely empty of thought, save for that pounding, he found his mind wander to the night of the final battle and he realized that the sound of her pounding shoes just now had reminded him of when she had fled the shack that night after she had stopped his bleeding.

But his mind didn't stop there. No. Those pounding sneakers were just the first little trickle that caused the flood. It all came tumbling forward then, like a dam bursting wide open.

The nagging little worry that had sat at the back of his mind for weeks, the notion that he was missing something or forgetting some detail, it finally sprung forth and he could do nothing but admit it. Great truths like this had a way of refusing to be ignored.

 _Gentle hands pressing against his neck wound._

 _Searing pain, sharp and bright, receding into a blissful void._

 _Hands...soft, delicate hands tenderly touching him._

 _Words, floating across him, healing his bleeding, broken body._

And then they were there.

 _Lips. Firm and soft, gentle and demanding all at once, pressing so perfectly against his own._

 _"_ _Rest now, Professor. Everything will be just fine."_

His fingers reached up and touched his lips, while he stared at the door she had just slammed shut. 'Stunned' seemed like too flimsy a word to capture how he felt at this exact moment.

Closing his eyes once more, he felt himself fall headlong into the memory and the wave of emotion that struck him nearly caused him to collapse.

This time, he could feel her, really and truly feel her.

 _Those lips, moving against his own, a warm breath on his cheek, a gentle hand resting against his chest, the lovely, comforting weight of her warm, luscious body resting atop his own._

 _"_ _Rest now, Professor. Everything is going to be alright."_

His eyes sprung open at this. This memory felt too damn real to be a dream or hallucination. He knew now, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that this had actually happened.

Bleeding to death, and long before she knew him to be a good man, Hermione Granger had kissed him; full, long and hard, with all her heart.

Young, perfect, brave, beautiful Hermione Granger had really kissed him. Had in fact given him the most passionate, soulful kiss of his long, miserable life.

Sitting down heavily upon his stool, his mind, usually chocked-full of thoughts, emptied all at once, save for one single thought, one simple question.

 _Why in the world would she ever do such a thing?_

 **A/N: My eternal gratitude to all you lovelies who have swung by for a read, a follow, a fav or even a lovely review…especially all the thoughtful reviews. I reread them often and am so grateful for each and every one of them. It takes a patient, dedicated, special kind of reader to read a WIP and be forced to wait for a writer to update. I know it's far more satisfying to read a completed work and given how long it takes me to update, I know this story in particular can be hard to wait for and keep coming back to. So believe me when I say that I am stunned and elated by your continued support. I wish I could offer more than a simple 'thank you' because you all are wonderful and your feedback has been such an integral part of this story making it as far as it has.**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Hello! Thank you for all the favs, follows and beautiful reviews from the last chapter! I've once again written a huge chapter that just felt a bit too long, so I split it; a shorter chapter today and a longer one this Sunday. I hope you all are doing well, Happy Tuesday :)**

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 _"I'm not used to being loved. I wouldn't know what to do."_

\- _F. Scott Fitzgerald_

Baffled.

Perplexed.

Bewildered.

Completely bumfuzzled.

Severus Snape was unaccustomed to being stumped, and yet that is exactly where he found himself, naked in his small shower, for the better part of an hour, while his mind whirled with confusing thoughts and comprehension wafted just beyond his grasp.

A lifetime of judiciously applying calm, measured reason, as a gifted student, a top Death Eater, a clever spy and an esteemed potions master, had given him the rare advantage of always being a natural problem-solver.

"Even the most challenging of problems can be tackled with reason, it is usually where the answer lies," his old potions master had intoned many a time during his apprenticeship and this advice usually proved sound.

And yet the harder he fought for reason, the faster it seemed to speed away.

Scorching hot water pelted his skin, pressing down upon him and washing over his weary body providing some relief to the aching tension in his back, but not much. His palms pressed flat against the cool tile, holding his body upright, his head bowed, cocooned in blissful white noise, Severus stood there, motionless, fighting for sound thought.

As he lay on the brink of death, why had Hermione kissed him?

He rubbed a rough hand over his face, trying to forcibly set his brain to right and still he stood, letting the water and noise surround him, trying to find an answer to an unanswerable question.

Hours spent sitting listlessly in his lab, drinking far too much fire whiskey, followed by a handful of hours of fitful sleep had produced no convincing answers. And so he stood rooted in his shower, sunrise still an hour away, willing the answer to come forth from thin air.

 _Reason, reason…think! There must be a rational explanation for her behavior!_ He just had to find it.

Maybe she had been temporarily insane when she kissed him? Extreme stress and fatigue were well-known to cause bouts of strange behavior, perhaps this was the cause for her temerity.

Or maybe she had been blinded for a moment and thought she was kissing the Weasley prat?

Perhaps she had been _Imperio'd_ by some malicious bastard wishing to cause her pain and disgust, embarrassment at the very least?

Perhaps she had tripped and had the unfortunate luck of landing square on his face?

He mused and pondered and cursed his own addled mind and still he couldn't find an answer to satisfy himself.

Some damn thing must have happened to the poor girl that rendered her without sound thought for a moment, something that made her crazy enough to do such an unthinkable act.

 _Maybe I'm imagining it. Maybe it didn't happen._

But it had happened, he knew it had, she had kissed him. He could feel the soft, indelible print of her lips; like a footprint left in the sand, her lips, too, had left a mark on him. Like a permanent whisper etched upon his skin, burning him with her mark, he could feel it upon him so sharply now he wondered how it took him this long to recognize it.

This is what had been different these past few weeks, and it was just now that he was realizing it.

But…why? Why in the sweet name of Circe had she done such a crazy thing?

He tried to focus on answering this simple question, and yet the harder he tried, the more the answer seemed to slip thorough his fingers, like a needle falling through a haystack.

In the absence of finding a suitable answer for her highly peculiar behavior, he found he kept reliving the moment, over and over again, and the more he focused on the memory, the more he found he could recall, tiny details springing to life and making the memory not only incredibly vivid but also undeniably real.

The water pressed against him, holding him in place as he fell deeper and deeper into the memory.

 _Darkness and terror flooding his mind and soul as his body slowly went numb from the neck down._

 _Falling swiftly into the quicksand of unconsciousness, his heart slowing to a sluggish thump._

 _But as the abyss beckoned, he felt the strongest pull of magic take hold, and grab at him, holding him back from the beyond and commanding him to open his eyes and breathe once more._

 _He opened his eyes but still could only see foggy shapes, the world blurred beyond recognition. His head was pounding and his limbs were heavy and weak._

 _Barely conscious, hell, barely even alive, he could've slipped away so easily._

 _But then it happened. He felt her._

 _All around him, bathing him in warmth, casting the terrifying unknown far away once more._

 _Her lips brushing against the shell of his ear, her warm breath sending a bolt of fire through his veins and her gentle words soothing his stricken heart and frazzled nerves._

 _Her hand floated to his chest, resting there as she bent over him, her wispy curls falling forward and tickling his cheek with a featherlight touch._

 _The soothing weight of a very feminine body pressing atop his. Her pert breasts against his chest, her jean-clad thigh wedged between his legs, the dip and curve of her hip coming to rest against his._

 _Her hand cupping his face tenderly, the pads of her fingers tracing the stubble on his cheek._

 _Soft lips claiming his, a slight hint of mint and her own unique, beautiful taste teasing his motionless lips._

His pulse quickened and his breath became more shallow as the memory of her atop him stirred a deep, genuine want within. He glanced down to see the rather obvious evidence of this potent desire and he sighed at the sight.

He couldn't recall the last time, if in truth, ever, that he felt so wholly aroused, the sudden, powerful sensation catching him off guard. His head pounded with each heartbeat as he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the shower wall, the cool tile a stark contrast to his flushed cheek. He paused but a moment, knowing he shouldn't. She had been his student, and now his friend. But the memory of that kiss, a whisper across his lips, clouded his reason and banished his usual sensibility. He gave in and let his hand slip down his wet stomach and firmly grasp his suddenly throbbing member, aching desire pulsing through him and making him dizzy.

Stroking himself to the mere thought of kissing her, he felt himself moan and shutter as his body responded wholeheartedly to the powerful, electrifying surge of passion running through his blood.

Cloaked in a blissful cocoon, wrapped in a perfect memory, he took it a step further and let his long dormant imagination sweep him away for once in a rush of heady fantasy and pure delight.

He could see her so perfectly now, as if she were standing naked before him, her skin wet and rosy from the hot water, her long curls glistening as they fell down her bare back. He pulled her in and claimed her sweet mouth, his hands skimming along her neck and delving into those damp curls as he pulled her long, lithe body flush against his own aching, burning flesh.

He imagined pinning her willing body against those tiles, the warmth from between her thighs setting a fire within him as she moaned and writhed beneath his towering frame. He let his hands dip and rake along the smooth skin, skimming each curve with reverence and hunger. His lips tasted her skin and her mouth, his body so very alive and ablaze with passion.

 _"More, Severus…please, more,"_ she begged, as he envisioned her hands slipping down his back and cupping his ass, pulling his aching cock dangerously close to her wet heat.

His head was soon spinning and his body quaking slightly from the image of her naked against him, touching him, wanting him. Her smoldering eyes drinking him in with raw want and passion, her hands clutching at him, pulling him against herself even tighter.

Yet more than her body, as luscious as he imagined it to be, it was how very much she wanted him, how she ground her hips into his with such desire, how aroused she became by him, her throaty moans, her honey-colored eyes darkening to deep caramel as desire took hold. It was this passion for him that truly set his skin on fire.

To be wanted was a pleasure he had never once experienced and he craved it now more than anything he had ever desired.

Leaning against the wall for support, his hand pumping quickly now, up and down, aided by the water and slippery soap, he felt himself falling headlong into a ravine of unknown pleasure, one he wasn't sure he could pull back from.

As suddenly as his mind had filled with lust, it took an equally sharp turn toward revulsion.

He felt vile that he would become so completely and powerfully aroused by her. She was so young and pure and had shown him nothing but kindness, time and time again.

She wasn't his and he felt such palpable guilt at thinking of her as so. She had saved him and befriended him, but she was by no means his to have, his to long for, his to desire.

 _Ah, there's my old friend, Reason and his steadfast companion, Shame, arriving just a few minutes late, I see._

Suddenly wracked with guilt and disgust at the thought of pleasuring himself with her in mind, imagining her to be so wanton, so desperate for his touch, the all-too-familiar wave of pure self-hatred washed over him and his hand stilled.

 _Stop this, damnit! You're not fifteen anymore, act your age._

He peeled his body off of the wall, stood up straight and reluctantly released his throbbing member from his hand, aching at the absence of much-needed friction. Instead he reached for the water tap and turned it to the far right. The hot soothing spray was immediately replaced by ice-cold water and he groaned as the frigid rain pelted his skin and immediately caused his impressive erection to rapidly recede.

 _Good_ , he thought, as he stood once more, now under the punishing deluge of an ice bath, _serves you right_.

After several long minutes of penance, his skin now an icy, pale blue from the chill and his desire once more under his firm control, he shut off the tap and extricated himself from the shower.

He quickly dried and dressed in his usual black slacks and white button-down. Sitting down heavily upon his bed to put on his boots, he realized his hands were shaking slightly.

The lack of real sleep, combined with too much Pepper-Up potion had left him feeling jittery and irritable. He closed his eyes again and could still feel his head pounding from the confusing mix of emotions.

Want, need, potent desire, denial, confusion, it was all there, pounding in his skull, demanding to be heard and parsed through.

 _Not now, I don't have time for such silliness._

But as he tried for the third, consecutive, unsuccessful attempt to lace his right boot, clarity of thought finally hit him and his hands stilled, boot still untied.

 _You care for her. You long for her._

 _You're not as clever or as hollow as you think, old man._

He hung his head in his hands as defeat and resignation washed over him.

Try as he might, he couldn't ignore that she had effected him, deeply and wholly. His usual iron-tight control of his limited emotions was waning and though he longed to shut off these infernal feelings, he realized he couldn't, not really. He could try and ignore them, but what good would that do if they simply kept returning, even stronger and more insistent with each passing moment?

He audibly sighed in his silent bedchamber at his situation.

He did care for her, deeply in fact, and had told her as much but one day ago. There was no taking back the sentiment or his sincere affection for her, not that he'd want to.

He was also clearly attracted to her and the mere thought that she, let alone any woman, could elicit such a strong physical reaction from him was highly unusual. He wasn't an excitable person, by nature and had never chased after women, he simply never felt the need. He had only loved one and even when his affection for Lily was at its zenith, she had never elicited such a vivid, erotic fantasy from him. And yet now visions of his former student, naked, wet and begging for his touch, swam freely before his mind's eye. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

Hell, if he was being completely honest with himself, he'd even go so far as to admit that he _liked_ Hermione and found her company quite pleasing, which for him, a known, dour recluse, who generally shunned the company of others, was truly saying something.

So what to do with this new, terrifying feeling? Bury it? Ignore it? Or…embrace it?

The answer to that depended entirely upon her. He knew from personal experience that one-sided affection would only lead to heartache. No, he refused to traverse that lonely road once more. If she didn't care for him, which was most certainly the case, he would squash this nonsense immediately, no use pining for another without hope of that affection being returned. He had done quite enough of that for one lifetime.

So then the important question became, how exactly did she feel towards him?

Friendly? Certainly. But was there more to it?

She tore out of his lab the day before like the demons from Hades were chasing her. Could it be that she was possibly… _jealous_? Had she seen Narcissa embracing him and felt angered at the sight? Could she...actually _love_ him?

It all felt impossibly preposterous and yet he couldn't outright dismiss the notion that she might genuinely care for him. She had saved him, kissed him, befriended him…maybe it all added up to something more than polite concern. But the again, maybe it didn't. He was no expert when it came to matters of the heart and felt lost once more in a maze confusing emotions. Wringing his hands in frustration, he wished he could find some kind of answer to settle the worry deep in his heart.

His eyes drifted to the standing _Tempus_ charm set above his doorway and knew he had more pressing matters to attend to. The morning meeting would be starting soon and he needed to be in attendance. He focused his mind and finally managed to tie his boot and made his way to his private lab.

Both the diagnostic and healing potion had steeped sufficiently long enough, their full potency having been reached and ready for consumption. He magically bottled each potion into smaller, individual vials and set them into a carrying case. He then magically shrunk the large case, pocketed it and prepared to leave. A pressing task at hand, he banished the thoughts of the young Gryffindor for now, for it was a riddle he could not possibly solve on his own.

He knew, however, he couldn't ignore these thoughts, and the feelings they elicited, for long. He couldn't possibly go on like this, living a tortured limbo between knowing and not knowing why she had kissed him, equally wanting her affection and fearing her true intentions. Allowing himself to want her weighed against his usual tendencies of self-defense and denying himself anything and everything.

He needed to speak with her, and find an answer and put his heart to rest, one way or another. But first, he had a meeting to attend.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Hey, hey, hey, y'all :) Welcome to our next installment. This picks up on the same morning as the previous chapter (the morning after Hermione fled the lab and Severus remembers the kiss) this one just starts off from her perspective. Hope you enjoy it :) Sorry for any typos, I only gave this a quick, final read.**

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 _"It's so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch me."_

 _-Sylvia Plath_

Weary.

Exhausted.

Heart broken.

Completely and utterly spent.

As the sun broke over the towering mountains, Hermione awoke feeling far more wretched than when she had fallen asleep the night before.

Sitting up slowly in her small bed, she realized that every damn thing, from the top of her head straight down to the tips of her toes, seemed to hurt, including her poor, useless heart.

Although her broken arm had healed overnight, it still ached in its sling; a sharp pain shooting up her bicep and searing a nerve in her neck, had, in fact, been her morning wake-up call.

Her back felt sore, as well, thoroughly tense and knotted as if she had lifted boulders all day rather than brewed a potion.

Her head pounded with each heartbeat, so much so that even the tips of her hair hurt.

Her legs felt heavy and weak as she wearily stood and made her way to the bathroom.

But above all these bothersome, physical maladies, it was her heart that stung the most, the one organ impervious to magical remedies. She marveled at her own physical and emotional frailty and wondered, not for the first time, just how fragile she truly was.

What was the culprit for waking up this sore and depleted? She hadn't worked that hard yesterday, she should've felt at least a smidgen better given all the potions Madam Pomfrey had forced upon her before bed, but in fact the opposite was proving true. She felt terrible.

Was it the malaise, or whatever was behind it, rearing its head once more? The lack of sleep? Or was her blasted heart behind this stupendous funk?

Probably all three, she wagered.

A hot shower, fresh clothes and even a touch of blush did little to help brighten her mood or appearance, or, more importantly, dampen the worries that plagued her mind all night.

A good night sleep, as Madam Pomfrey had suggested the night before, would have no doubt helped with all these aches and pains. Sadly, she managed precious little sleep and was acutely regretting that loss now.

Crumpling the sheets and displacing Crookshanks to an adjoining chair with all her tossing and turning, Hermione barely managed a few moments of solid sleep before startling awake, her mind spinning with so many thoughts and worries. Over and over again, she would nod off only to jerk awake a moment later, her mind viciously fighting sleep with thoughts about the castle, the health of all the good people there, about how strikingly beautiful and charming Narcissa Malfoy was and how foolish Hermione felt for letting her guard down. The darker the thoughts became, the farther she slipped from sleep's tenuous grasp. And so she found herself, barely awake and barely ambulatory once more, facing another long day full of work and, no doubt, disappointment.

After her third, consecutive, unsuccessful attempt to tie her hair in a ponytail the muggle way, with a bum arm, no less, Hermione's temper reared and she shouted, "Damnit!", as she angrily threw her hair brush into the garbage bin. The resulting crash of wood against the metal bin startled her poor cat and caused him to fall off the toilet ledge and land on the cold tile with an impressive thud.

"Sorry, Crooks," Hermione sighed, looking dejected.

Crookshanks shot her an annoyed glare and slipped out of the bathroom, wisely taking this as his cue to leave his master alone in peace.

Leaning her already-weary arm against the sink and staring at her haggard face in the mirror, Hermione groaned.

Eying her frizzy curls with a scowl, she immediately thought of the long, pin-straight golden locks of another woman, one far more refined and desirable than herself. Hermione felt her stomach lurch painfully, for not the first time that morning.

Out of options, she grabbed her wand from the counter and cleared her mind, focusing her energy on recalling the simple hair-fastening charm that Parvati had taught her in her third-year.

Given her aching body and lethargy, she assumed her magical reserve was also still quite low but given the fact that her unruly locks where no match against muggle-means and her sore arm, she thought she'd at least give the spell a shot.

After a moment, she managed to cast a fastening charm on her hair to tie it up in a loose bun and the magic held, but just barely. With wisps and tendrils immediately springing loose, she could tell the finished product was a sloppy job that would barely last the morning, let alone the whole day. Her still ineffectual level of magic left her frustrated and worried.

 _I wish he were here to fix my hair. He did it so perfectly_ , she thought with a small, wistful smile.

 _Not now, I have more important matters to attend to_ , she thought angrily, shoving her longing deep down and focusing on her plans for the day instead.

After laboring through her morning routine, she finally relented and swallowed a pain potion Madam Pomfrey had given her the evening before. She hated taking them but knew she wouldn't be able to get through the long day without some relief. Swallowing it in one, the pain reduced slightly.

Exiting through the portrait hole, her clipboard tucked under her good arm, she went to turn down the east corridor and head toward the infirmary when she saw her favorite tapestry once more and she stopped.

The brooding knight and the woodland nymph; light and dark, wanting and wary.

The knight, stoic and reserved as always, stood off to the side, his face set in stony indifference, as he tended to his horse. The merry wood nymph, smiling and gentle as always, tried in vain once more to capture his attention with her flute-playing and dancing. But still, he ignored her.

 _When will she ever learn?_ Hermione thought sadly, unable to deny the sorrow she felt at watching the foolish nymph be cast aside time and time again.

She ran her hands along the tapestry hem and felt the magical hum of the object flow through her fingers, and she smiled slightly. But as she went to withdraw her hand, the magical vibration from the tapestry seemed to ebb slightly, almost hiccuping in her hand. And she frowned at this, eyeing the tapestry a moment with a critical eye.

The wood nymph and knight were still there, but their movements seemed to halt a moment, freezing them for but a second. Blinking quickly at the oddity, the vibration suddenly hummed steadily again in her hands and the knight and nymph resumed their endless afternoon picnic.

Hermione shook her head slightly, wondering if she had imagined the sudden magical

interruption. She was still tired and healing and rationalized that her eyes must have been playing tricks upon her.

Straightening up, she turned and headed down a deserted corridor to her meeting. But the thought that this little hiccup had been more than a figment of her imagination nagged at the back of her tired brain until she found herself at the hallway to the infirmary.

She could hear laughter spilling from the infirmary as she approached. It sounded half-full when Hermione arrived at a quarter-past eight, only fifteen minutes until the meeting was set to begin. She had planned this purposely, she didn't want to be alone with her professor again, so she waited until she knew it was safe and others would be present.

Her hand poised against the wood, she said a silent prayer that he wasn't there yet, truthfully, she wasn't ready to face him at all.

She quietly opened the door and poked her head in, scanning the room quickly. She gave a soft sigh when she realized that, of the many people seated on infirmary beds and sipping tea, Professor Snape wasn't one of them for he hadn't arrived yet.

Feeling her nerves calm slightly, she entered and closed the door. As she did so, the various conversations were halted and tea cups left abandoned as the dozen or so inhabitants all rose to greet her, all smiling and happy to see her up and about after the terrifying events of the previous few days.

"Hermione! There you are!" shouted Harry as he bounded over to greet her, pulling her in for a gentle hug. "I swung by yesterday to see you but Madam Pomfrey said you were busy. Where were you?"

"Hermione, how are you feeling?" asked Neville and Luna, both before her now and smiling brightly.

"Is your arm still hurt?" asked Pomona.

"Are you all better?" piped up Aurora.

"What caused you to faint, dear?" inquired Filius.

Hermione felt suddenly dizzy and overwhelmed by all the attention and questions. All her well-meaning friends and professors surrounded her and she didn't know where to even begin. Luckily she didn't have to.

"Enough with the inquisition! My girl's been through enough!" barked Sirius as he bustled through the crowd like a protective mother hen.

Hermione smiled and breathed a sigh of relief as the raven-haired animagus scooped her up in his strong arms and pulled her in for a breathtaking hug, squeezing her so tightly she could only smile at the fierceness with which he held her.

"Can't breathe," she half-laughed, half-winced, earning her a few hearty chuckles from the crowd, but Sirius merely held on tight, his face buried in her hair.

"You really scared us, love," he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear. "Don't do that again," he gently chastised, and as he pulled back slightly to cup her face. She could see tears glistening in his dark eyes.

"I promise," she smiled, blushing slightly from all the attention and the sudden warmth of his hands against her cheeks.

"Well, I think I can speak for all of us that we're just glad you're feeling better," Remus piped-up, as the crowd parted and allowed Sirius to help Hermione to a seat on an adjoining cot.

"How about some tea?" Remus kindly inquired and Hermione gratefully accepted as she leaned on Sirius for support.

But as she made her way to a free bed, all of her friends eager to hear about her recovery, she saw Draco sitting off on a cot to the side, by himself, quietly watching her. He looked even more pale than usual, his dark slacks smudged with dirt and his usual smirk mysteriously absent as a look of raw curiosity and concern took shape upon his tired face.

She excused herself from Sirius, Harry and Remus and crossed the room, coming to a stop right before the young Slytherin.

He stood and gave her a small nod, still looking unsure of himself.

"Granger, good to see you up and about. Feeling alright?" he carefully asked, eyeing her injured arm.

"Yes, a bit better now...thanks to you," she offered with a warm smile.

He looked pointedly at his shoes and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"It's my fault you got hurt in the first place," he softly admitted.

"It wasn't your fault I collapsed. And I would've been crushed had you not gotten me out of there in time. I can't begin to properly thank you," she said sincerely.

"Listen, it's not a big deal, alright," he countered, looking away again, trying to hide his anguish and guilt.

"It is actually," she uttered earnestly.

He sighed and brought his gaze back to her, his eyes sweeping across the bruise that still lingered on her pale neck, on her injured arm and he simply shook his head.

"You were so hurt," he uttered softly. "There was so much blood…I could've done better."

He looked on the verge of tears when she reached forward and took his hand in hers.

"You could have hightailed it and let me be crushed to death and you didn't," she uttered sincerely, squeezing his hand.

"You're making me out to be a hero and I'm not," he retorted, angrily pulling his hand from hers.

"Look," he snapped, trying to find his composure once more, but failing at that, relying on his usual anger, "I don't want this to become some weird thing between us, Granger. I was looking out for myself and you happened to benefit, that's all."

"Oh, would you please shut up for a second and just accept my heartfelt gratitude?" she asked, looking exasperated.

He made to disagree once more when she boldly clasped him with her good arm and pulled him in for a tight hug. He resisted the embrace for a moment before she spoke again.

"Thank you, Draco. Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she clutched at him. "You deserve my thanks. You did a wonderful, selfless thing for me. I'm honestly proud of you."

His steadfast bravado faded unexpectedly at this and his rigid posture relaxed slightly at these words.

No one had ever said they were proud of him and it took him by surprise that this woman, the one he had tormented for years would ever think, let alone say, such words of praise to him.

His head bowed and for once, he gave in to the feeling of being vulnerable and honest. He brought his hands up and gently embraced her.

"You're welcome, Hermione," he whispered. "And…thank you."

"For what?"

"For saying all that. It…it means a lot," he quietly admitted, his cheeks blushing slightly from the unfamiliar sensation of being honest.

"I meant it," she offered earnestly.

He nodded, reluctantly accepting the praise.

"This doesn't mean we're friends, you know," he teased, the smile apparent in his voice.

"No, no, of course not. Sworn enemies for life," she softly chuckled.

"Good. Glad that's cleared up," he answered, pulling away from her with a small, tentative smile.

She smiled and took his hand in her own once more.

"Come... sit with us," she offered, pulling him slightly toward her waiting friends.

A flicker of doubt crossed his face at this. He had worked with Harry and Neville the day before and the trio had done a decent job not killing one another, but the notion of socializing seemed strange if not outright ludicrous. "I…I'm not sure I'm welcome," he admitted, eyeing her friends across the room.

"You're more than welcome…trust me," she softly uttered with a reassuring nod.

He looked conflicted and highly uncomfortable but followed all the same.

She returned once more to her small band of friends, and Harry was the first to stand and make room, not only for Hermione but also for Draco. The Slytherin offered a begrudging smile in return.

As Remus kindly refilled her tea cup multiple times and Sirius doted upon her, the infirmary slowly filled with faculty and noise alike. With the small room bustling with activity, Hermione proceeded, in hushed tones, to fill her friends in on her day of brewing the powerful health potion and the intricacies of the diagnostic potion, how everyone would need to ingest both in order for them to gain a better understanding of what was behind the weakness.

She conveniently left out that she had walked in on Severus and Narcissa and how she subsequently fled the lab like her hair was on fire.

Hermione had taken a seat with her back to the door, forcibly denying herself the chance to look at who was entering. But every time the door swished open, her head automatically turned, both hoping and dreading the chance to see him, but after twenty minutes there was still no sign of the potions master.

Just then, Narcissa entered the infirmary and paused at the door, her eyes sweeping across the room.

 _Looking for him, aren't you? Not enough to have one man, a woman like you certainly deserves two,_ Hermione thought bitterly, watching the pure-blood like a hawk.

But as Narcissa's gaze settled upon Draco and saw him talking amicably with Neville and Harry, Narcissa seemed to relax just a touch as a small smile settled upon her porcelain face. She leaned against the doorway and watched her only son with an almost-relieved, hopeful look. Seemingly satisfied that she had found what she was looking for, Narcissa crossed to the table set with tea service, fixed herself a cup and sat down beside Pomona and Irma and began quietly chatting with the pair.

Hermione frowned at her own misjudgment. It would seem Narcissa hadn't been looking for Professor Snape after all. Perhaps there wasn't anything between the willowy pure-blood and the potions master after all?

 _Maybe he isn't spoke for_ , she hoped, wished and silently prayed.

But the sweet thought was quickly swept away as the memory of her professor clutching the beautiful blonde tight in his arms flashed across her mind.

 _Even if he isn't spoken for, do you really think he could ever be yours?_

And just like that, the good mood brought on by her friends, and that had momentarily bolstered her flagging spirits, disappeared as this weighty reality settled upon her.

"You sure you're feeling up to working today, love?" Sirius asked, noting how quiet and withdrawn she had become.

He pressed a hand to her head, feeling for a temperature and frowning.

"You're quite warm, love. Maybe you should rest today," he noted, looking worried.

"Nonsense, I'm fine, really. Just tired," she answered briskly, trying to dismiss his valid concern and shake the worry from her voice. "And I'm just waiting for Madam Pomfrey to check on my arm once more and then I can remove the sling. Should be all healed by now," she uttered confidently.

While the others continued chatting, she distracted herself by revising and amending her work list, at least it gave her mind something else to ponder besides the heavy weight that sat in her chest.

While the rest of the faculty and house elves arrived, another thirty minutes ticked by with no sign of Minerva, Poppy or Severus. The morning meeting couldn't begin without the headmistress, so they all waited but the occupants were getting restless.

"Merlin, when is this gonna get started?" Sirius grumbled as he fixed himself his third cup of tea.

"Hopefully soon," said Remus, "I have work at noon," looking out the tall window at the sun, already high in the morning sky.

"Can't you just dispatch us both somewhere," Sirius complained, glancing at Hermione's ever-present check list. "How about there," he said pointing "Great Hall, ceiling enchantment, we can start there."

But Hermione only shook her head firmly, noting the time, "The diagnostic potion should be ready by now. Everyone will need to take it" she offered in hushed tones. "You included."

Sirius scoffed at this, "I'm not the one who passed out. I feel fine."

"Nevertheless, everyone must be tested so we can establish a baseline measure of health," she murmured, looking uneasy at the task that lay ahead.

She eyed the faculty and elves and wondered how they would take the news that they might be poisoned. From the looks of disgruntled exhaustion that she found in many of their faces, she couldn't imagine this potential scenario would be well-received.

Just then, angry voices could be heard out in the hallway, the muffled utterances growing louder and clearer for several beats until finally the infirmary doors were suddenly jerked open and an unmistakable fight spilled into the room.

"No! Now that's the end of it, Severus!" came Minerva's barking command from the hallway, which carried across the packed room and caused all chatter to immediately cease.

Minerva swept into the room, her eyes set with anger and her nostrils flared in annoyance, bearing striking resemblance to a Hungarian horntail.

Severus entered the infirmary next, not looking much better, his face like thunder and his arms weighed down with several trays full of corked vials. He set them atop the nearest bed and stood beside Minerva, brooding quietly as he faced the crowd. Finally, Poppy brought up the rear, closing the door behind her, looking as flustered and bothered as a wet hen. All three looked stern and on-edge, their grim countenances doing little to dispel the sense of unease that permeated the room.

"Good morning, everyone," Minerva said with a sigh, looking frazzled and exhausted as she stood before the crowd, cane in hand.

"Before work begins today, we need to discuss a small matter," Minerva said, clearing her throat as she looked up at the group, slightly more composed.

"As you all know, some of us have been experiencing some magical energy loss and before we can continue working, everyone will need to see Poppy for a full physical and some preventative medications to help with any exhaustion."

"Preventative medications?" asked Pomona, "You're concerned about long-term damage?"

"Yes, we're concerned about exhaustion at the moment and with everyone working so hard, I would be remiss to allow anyone to work themselves to the point of harm," replied Minerva.

"So this is just for our well-being. There's not some bigger issue here?" Aurora asked, a bit sharply, several others nodding in agreement.

Minerva paused for but a second, a flicker of doubt crossing her aged face. But it passed quickly before she said, "No, Aurora, no larger issues at the moment, we just need to make sure everyone is in tip-top form."

"She didn't say anything about checking for poison," Sirius whispered to Hermione and Remus, who both looked perturbed at Minerva's omission and withholding of information.

Hermione sighed at this and finally looked at Severus. He looked like he could breathe fire at the headmistress but kept his mouth shut, his jaw clenched tight from the looks of it.

So that's what they had been arguing about, Hermione realized; whether or not to inform the faculty about possible causes for the magical malaise. From the looks of it, Severus had been in favor of full transparency while Minerva was clearly in favor of a more veiled approach.

"She must not want to alarm anyone until she has some concrete evidence," Remus quietly offered trying to justify her behavior, but Hermione still felt her temper rise at how Minerva was choosing to handle the situation.

Hermione frowned as she realized Minerva had inherited more from Professor Dumbledore than just his office and title. Hadn't Minerva learned anything from his own obfuscation? Lies, half-truths, secrets and omissions rarely helped during troubling times and in fact usually had the opposite effect of engendering quite a bit of resentment and anger amongst followers. Minerva was skating a delicate line between shielding her employees and hoodwinking them and Hermione didn't like it one bit.

"After everyone has been cleared physically," Minerva continued, "we'll return to work after lunch with the four-partner schedule."

"For how long will we remain in groups of four?" asked Draco.

"For the time being," Minerva vaguely replied.

"But, headmistress," Hermione interrupted, standing suddenly, her face flushed, "our September opening depends upon a tight reconstruction schedule. By my estimates, if we stay in groups of four for longer than one more week we will not be able to open in September."

Minerva pursed her lips at this and nodded thoughtfully before responding.

"Well then, we will revisit this topic in a week's time and hopefully by then we will all be feeling well enough to return to a two-person work rotation and keep our September opening," she offered, clearly itching to be done with this particular line of questioning.

"And if we aren't well enough?" Hermione boldly countered.

Minerva sighed, "If fatigue is still an issue in a week's time, I will speak with the board of trustees and attempt to arrange a delayed opening…a January start date perhaps."

"But Minerva, what will all the students do!?" Hermione exclaimed, looking positively livid at the mere thought of pushing the reopening so far in advance.

Several people exchanged worried looks at this outburst, Severus in particular taking note of just how upset she had become at the mere mention of delay.

Hermione reddened slightly at the looks she was receiving and tried a calmer approach.

"I just worry about the students, is all," Hermione said more softly, trying to appear a bit more composed.

"Students and their families will make due," Minerva said consolingly.

Hermione sat down with a sigh, looking worse for the wear.

Severus watched as Sirius leaned closer to her, whispered something into her ear and wrapped a consoling arm around her slim shoulder. She gave a weak smile to him and nodded, but still looked plagued. The pure-blood's arm draped around her made Severus' gut clench with anger.

Sensing that Minerva was eager to be done with the inquisition, Poppy stepped forward and said, "Alright then, if everyone would kindly form a queue in the hallway, we will begin the examinations. Hermione will be assisting me and Severus and Minerva will observe."

People grumbled and groused but filed out of the infirmary and formed a line beside the doorway, leaving the quartet to begin their delicate work.

Hermione had pulled everyone's medical charts the night before and rose to fetch them from Poppy's desk. Tucking them awkwardly in her unslung arm, she turned to walk back to the front table full of potions when Severus appeared beside her.

"Allow me," he uttered softly, his earlier anger replaced by genuine concern as he reached out to take the files from her. But Hermione only shrunk from his touch.

"No, thank you, sir. I'll make due just fine," she offered crisply as she skirted around him and joined Poppy again, her mouth set in a firm line.

Severus sighed and rejoined the ladies, ready for the difficult day to begin.

The first patient to be called in was Aurora.

Sitting down heavily upon a bed with an aggravated huff, Poppy began examining her, carefully waving her wand over her body, while Hermione took notes. Aurora merely crossed her arms and eyed Severus and Minerva who stood off to the side, with a sharp, calculating look.

"There's something you're not telling us," Aurora noted.

"Aurora, please don't stir the pot needlessly," Minerva begged, sighing heavily as she adjusted her cane.

Aurora regarded her a moment, her mouth set in a tight frown, before looking away in stony silence.

Poppy continued her examination, asking a variety of questions to accompany her wand.

"Any exhaustion?"

"Some," Aurora grumbled, looking highly aggravated.

"Muscle weakness? Insomnia? Headaches?"

"On occasion, nothing too bad," Aurora conceded.

"How about your magical reserve? Performing spells with a normal level of proficiency?"

Aurora sighed and shook her head, "No. A bit weak in that department. Smaller enchantments are not a problem, but larger concentrations of magic have been tough to pull off lately and afterwards, I feel quite drained."

At this, Severus crossed his arms and gave Minerva a meaningful look, which Minerva studiously ignored.

Poppy gave a nod and with a sharp swish of her wand, a red feathery light, full of dancing numbers, emitted from Aurora's side, indicating her various vital statistics.

Poppy frowned slightly as she read them silently while Hermione marked them in the medical chart

"Alright," Poppy announced, a vial of potion now in-hand, "next up, you'll need to ingest a diagnostic potion."

"What does it diagnosis exactly?" Aurora asked looking past Poppy and right at Severus, hoping for a straight answer.

Minerva shot him a stern look and he paused a moment before answering.

"It examines your blood composition and can detect vitamin and mineral levels, the presence of any viruses or infections... among other foreign substances," he carefully answered.

"Foreign substances? Like poison," Aurora questioned, her eyebrow quirked in suspicion.

"Yes," Severus answered plainly.

"It determines the presence of a myriad of diseases and infections. It's used as a broad diagnostic tool," Minerva added, looking aggravated once more.

Aurora shook her head, scoffing, looking a cross between astonished and disappointed.

"Very well," she intoned as she took the vial from Poppy and swallowed the potion, grimacing at the bitter taste. Within thirty seconds, another feathery ribbon emitted from her body, this one a faint green and containing another complex line of various numbers and symbols.

Severus stepped forward, alongside Poppy and Hermione, to exam and decipher the code, causing Hermione to take a sizable step back. The move, indicating again just how little she wished to be near him, caused his heart to sink.

After scanning the numbers for several long beats, Hermione recorded the information on her chart, the trio curiously quiet.

"We've all been weak and you know as well as the rest of us that this is more than exhaustion. You're keeping something from us," Aurora announced, her eyes narrowing at Minerva with unbridled contempt.

"We are looking into the matter but can not say anything further at this time," Minerva conceded, which caused Aurora to chuckle darkly.

"With an answer like that you should've gone into politics, Minerva," Aurora bit out, crossing her arms and looking away.

"Aurora, try and see things from my position," Minerva softened.

"I'm trying, Minerva, we all are," Aurora snapped. "Why do you think we're all here?! We're on the same side, you know! It would be nice if you could trust us," Aurora sighed, looking not only angry but deeply offended.

Minerva sat down beside her and placed a gentle hand atop hers.

"This could be nothing but exhaustion, Aurora. So please, help me. I'm doing my best to rebuild a school, keep the board happy, and keep the hungry press at bay. Everything I do is in the best interest of this school and all those who call it home."

Aurora swallowed thickly and looked up.

"I should hope so, Minerva. I never pegged you for the type to knowingly put your staff in danger," she said pointedly.

"I never would, Aurora and I hope you know me well enough to believe that."

"I do, Minerva. It's just…if we're at risk here, people have a right to know. We've all done and sacrificed enough for this school," Aurora pointed out earning her a nod from Minerva.

"I know…I know."

"Here," offered Severus, stepping forward with another vial. "Please, drink this."

"Another secret potion?" Aurora said bitterly.

"No, a powerful healing agent," answered Severus. "It will help heal any underlying cell damage and help with your magical aura. Hermione brewed it herself," he noted with a small smile and a look of pride as his eyes caught Hermione's. She blushed at the praise and looked away, scribbling a note in the chart rather than hold his gaze.

"Well then, it must be perfect," Aurora said with a begrudging smile at the young woman as she tipped back the potion and gave a gentle sigh as she felt the potion fill her slowly with a tingling warmth.

"A few days of this potion and your exhaustion should be all cleared up," Poppy reassured her with a warm smile, but Aurora still seemed unsure. "You are free to leave, but be sure to report back each morning for the next week for more healing potion. Kindly send in Pomona next," Poppy asked as she cleared away the empty vials and made more notes in her chart.

Aurora muttered a curt, "Thank you," and made for the door.

"Aurora, please," Minerva called, her voice softer now, "help me do my job and keep the rumors at bay until we have firm proof otherwise. And as soon as I am able to tell you more, you will know more," Minerva promised.

Aurora stoped with her hand on the door and looked appraisingly at Minerva before responding.

"I'll keep my suspicions to myself, for now, and do my best to quell any rumors among the staff. I'm giving you a week, Minerva, that is all. Don't keep us in the dark for longer than you have to. You owe us that much."

Minerva nodded as her astronomy professor left. She turned to Poppy with an expectant look.

"Well? What do we know?" Minerva asked, rising and leaning heavily upon her cane.

"No poison was present," Poppy noted, glancing at the chart before her. "No infections or any other obvious signs of illnesses, either. Overall her health was fine, not exceptional. Low blood-oxygenation levels and high levels of stress hormones were present, which are both typical after long periods of exhaustion."

Minerva smiled slightly at this. "Well, that helps bolster the argument for simple exhaustion."

"Not so fast, Minerva," Poppy continued. "The item that caused the greatest worry was that of her magical aura, it was substantially reduced. Intact at its core, indicating no permanent damage but far weakened than her last physical a year ago. That type of substantive dip isn't usually attributed to exhaustion. It's usually caused by a powerful trauma or illness," Poppy noted, closing the thin medical chart with a frown.

The small hope that had been clear in her eyes, disappeared at this as Minerva gave a somber nod. Pomona bustled in then and seated herself on the bed. Poppy once more began her examination.

The next three hours followed much the same pattern, with every teacher, house elf, inhabitant and all visitors to the castle undergoing a thorough exam and imbibing both special potions.

Some were as wary and suspicious as Aurora had been, while others remained optimistic that their exhaustion was a minor inconvenience and would soon be banished with the help of Hermione's restorative potion.

"Oh, feelin' fine, love. Fit as a fiddle," Hagrid chuckled heartily although the diagnostic numbers spilling from him told a different story.

"Some magical fluctuations but that's to be expected from a wizard my age," Filius noted with a smile.

"Felt a bit dizzy yesterday morning but it quickly passed," volunteered Harry, looking a bit worried by all the questions, "but I missed breakfast so that was probably the culprit."

"I have been feeling…unwell," admitted Narcissa with some reluctance. "But it's been a hard few months, I'm just not used to all the stress," she conceded, her tired eyes sweeping to Severus at this. He held her gaze and gave her a small smile, an unspoken understanding passing between the pair.

Hermione wanted to focus on her chart rather than watch the display but found she couldn't tear her eyes away, a gnawing sense of unease growing in the pit of her stomach at the intimacy the pair so effortlessly shared.

As the afternoon sun climbed higher in the clear blue sky, each successive exam produced similar findings. No poison or overt illness present, but everyone's magical reserve was compromised in varying degrees. All received the strengthening potion and were told to head to the kitchen for lunch and await their work assignments.

Finally at a half-past one, the only ones who remained to be seen were Minerva, Severus and Hermione.

Hermione went first. Having been thoroughly examined the morning before, all of her vital signs, including her magical aura, had actually improved slightly despite her feeling quite run-down.

Swishing her wand slowly along Hermione's right arm, Poppy smiled.

"The break is all healed so we can dispose of this," Poppy announced as she gently removed the sling and Hermione gratefully stretched the arm, glad to be rid of the contraption.

"Do be careful with this arm though, at least for the next several weeks. Although healed, this arm will be weak, another fall could cause a significant break. So no daredevil stunts, please," Poppy said with a tired smile.

"I'll be as careful as I can," Hermione promised as she gingerly flexed her arm and wrist, grateful to have use of her arm once more.

Severus smiled, watching her be so pleased and fully-healed once more was truly a blessing. It was a sight that brought a great deal of peace to his tired, worried heart.

Hermione hopped off the cot and swallowed the healing potion, relishing in the renewed sense of energy and mental clarity she suddenly felt.

"Alright, Severus, you're next," Poppy commanded as Hermione stood and moved aside.

He scowled slightly but didn't argue as he sat down upon the exam bed.

Hermione stepped forward to record his numbers while Poppy ran the diagnostic tests.

Flipping his medical chart open, Hermione realized it was far thicker, at least twice the thickness, of any other patient they had seen today. Dating back to his first year here as a student and covering all the years up till now, it was a physical testament to all the times he had been injured in the name of the Light. Finally locating a blank page in the very back of the file, she prepared to record his vitals.

Her eyes trained on her clipboard, Hermione wanted to be as reserved and professional as she had been with the others, but just being near him caused her heart to flutter painfully in her chest. She wished she could shut the damn thing off for all the trouble it was causing her.

"Roll up your sleeve, Severus," Poppy asked, "I want to check for any residual nerve damage along your left arm."

He frowned at this, his brow furrowing in concern. Hermione couldn't help but notice he looked markedly uncomfortable at the request.

He sighed and looked downward as he folded up the sleeve in crisp, neat turns. Hermione's eyes watched with rapt attention as his pale skin gave way to the dark ink staining his skin a gruesome black and gray.

As Poppy ran her wand along his skin and the dark mark, Severus looked up to see Hermione watching him, holding his gaze for the first time all day. Her large brown eyes seemed to hold an ocean full of emotion, her beautiful mouth dipping into a small frown. He wanted to look away and hide his own shame at baring such a horrid marking on his skin, but as he made to turn his head, Hermione shook her head slightly, indicating that he had nothing to be ashamed of. His stomach involuntarily flipped at her bold gesture of acceptance. Although his shame usually got the better of him, he found himself, in this particular moment, suddenly feeling less shameful and incapable of looking away.

"Improving slightly, Severus," Poppy announced, breaking the heavy, heated gaze the two were sharing. "Honestly, you're in best shape out of the lot of us, but I imagine its due to your lengthy coma. It allowed you to rest and heal more thoroughly."

He nodded and stood, quickly pulling his sleeve back down, noticing how Hermione, from under the safe cover of her curly tendrils, watched the mark on his arm intently, the look on her face not entirely unfriendly.

Minerva was the last to be examined and even though Poppy tried to hold the numbers close to her chest, Severus was tall enough to peer over the mediwitch and the numbers noted there were not good.

"Minerva," he said softly, "the potions haven't been working have they? You're still as weak as you were weeks ago," Severus asked as Poppy transcribed the vitals in her lover's chart.

Minerva gave a sad smile. "I'm just old, Severus. Takes longer to heal, is all," she noted with forced cheer.

Poppy gave a nod, rubbing Minerva's back with a soothing touch as she gave the headmistress her healing potion.

"This should help, dearest," Poppy said encouragingly, smiling warmly.

Minerva sighed as she drank it and handed the empty vial back.

"Feeling better?" Poppy asked brightly.

Minerva nodded firmly, smiling, but Severus could tell she was lying.

"So," Minerva uttered as she stood up, "we've all been examined. What do we know now that we didn't this morning?"

"Well, no poison was detected in anyone," Poppy noted as she put on her spectacles once more and eyed the charts laid out across an empty bed.

"That's one small blessing," Hermione sighed as she cleared away the last of the empty medicinal vials.

"And yet, everyone has weakened auras," Poppy remarked, eyeing all of the various vitals laid out before her, swimming in sea of numbers and variables.

"To varying degrees, yes," Severus remarked, his eyes scanning the same numbers. "Curiously, those not staying at the castle, for instance, Sirius, Remus and Harry, have higher energy levels than those residing here full-time," he noted, pointing to their charts.

"Well...now what?" asked Poppy, looking unsure.

"We check for curses, I suppose," said Minerva wearily, "although I think you're overreacting Severus. This seems like legitimate exhaustion to me."

"Those staying here at the castle have substantially weaker auras, Minerva, what does that tell you? Harry, Remus, Sirius…they aren't staying here and while their auras are slightly diminished, they are each substantially magically stronger than the rest of us. Something here in the castle is affecting us, whether you choose to believe it or not," he volleyed, a hint of aggravation creeping into his smooth voice.

"It could also be that they are working half-schedules while everyone here has put in full-days. You're overreacting and causing needless suspicion to take hold," she replied testily, removing her spectacles and rubbing at the bridge of her nose.

"I'm not overreacting," Severus stated adamantly. "I'm fulfilling the oath I swore to when I became headmaster, to protect each wizard and witch here to the best of my abilities. I may no longer be headmaster, but I care for each and every person here."

"Severus, please. I'm not trying to-"

"You're worried about bad press. Or pissing off the board or god knows what!" he snapped. "I'm worried about keeping us all safe. Let's just agree that we have different priorities right now," he glowered, his eyes holding hers with the rage that shone so brightly earlier in the day.

"Severus, that's not fair! You know I care about our safety just as much as you! And it's damn unfair of you to imply otherwise!" Minerva shouted.

"Minerva, I simply need answers. We all need answers! And if you don't want to be more forth coming perhaps someone else could answer my questions," he snapped.

Severus tightened his fists and held his tongue as he brushed past Minerva. Rather than retort, he crossed the cavernous room and approached the painting that hung above the fireplace.

Tapping his wand sharply against the frame he called out, "Albus! Kindly come to the infirmary, I wish to speak with you!"

He pressed his palms flat against the mantle to steady his breath while the others stood silently behind him.

A minute passed and the portrait remained empty. Severus pulled his wand again and tapped angrily, "Damnit, Albus! Where are you?!"

But still the frame was empty and after a minute Severus sighed.

"He's avoiding me. Clever bastard, knows exactly when to make himself scarce," he angrily muttered, as he stowed his wand once more and turned to face Minerva, Poppy and Hermione.

"Something is afoot here, Minerva, I can just feel it. And I won't rest until I know exactly what's causing this," he declared, crossing his arms and defiantly holding her gaze.

Minerva sighed, looking defeated. "You do that, Severus. In the meantime, I'll be busy making sure our students have somewhere to attend school come September."

Minerva hobbled out of the room, looking irate and thoroughly exhausted with Poppy following closely behind. As the door slammed shut, Severus gave a deep, weary sigh, hanging his head in frustration.

"I think you're right," came her soft voice.

Severus looked up, clearly surprised to see the look of understanding on her young face.

"I do think something is wrong with the castle. Minerva may not agree, but I do," Hermione said kindly.

Severus felt his chest lighten at her words.

"Thank you," he replied, genuinely meaning it.

Hermione gave a small nod. Suddenly realizing that she was alone with him and she had once more let her guard down, her demeanor changed instantly. Grabbing her clip board and making for the door at a brisk clip, she offered a quick, "See you at lunch, sir."

"Hermione, may I have a word?" he gently asked, catching her before she could escape.

"Everyone is waiting for their assignments, sir. I really should get going," she softly replied, looking away, one hand poised on the door.

"Let them wait, I need to speak with you," he implored, coming to stand right before her.

Trapped in the exact position she had wished to avoid, Hermione only sighed at her bad luck.

"What is it you need, sir?" she inquired, trying to keep her face impassive although her heart quickened with him standing so close.

"You seem angry at me," he noted gently.

"I'm not, sir," she lied and Severus knew, so he pressed on, needing to know the truth.

"After seeing Narcissa in my classroom yesterday, you seemed to become quite upset and after completing your potion, you left rather...abruptly," he commented.

She swallowed and drew a hand through the curls that now tumbled freely from her defunct hair-tying spell.

"I was tired and in pain. It wasn't about you, I simply pushed myself too far yesterday. I need to be more aware of my own limits, not let myself get too carried away, thinking I can do more than I am able to," she answered, her cheeks flushed and her shoulders stooped.

"Why does that feel like a lie?" he asked, his voice soft rather than accusatory.

Hermione sighed, squaring her shoulders slightly.

"Believe whatever you wish, but I don't have time for this," she noted with irritation. "So if you're quite finished grilling me, sir, I have a lot to do-" she bit out as she made for the door.

But just as she reached it, he stepped in front of her, blocking her exit.

"Are we friends?" he asked, his arm shooting out at the doorframe to stop her from leaving.

"I thought so," she answered, looking up at him with hurt clear in her eyes.

"And do you care about me?" he asked, suddenly bold, his curiosity pushing him for the answers he desperately craved.

She bowed her head, stubbornly looking away. "You're my friend, of course…I care for you," she carefully answered.

"And I care for you," he quietly admitted, "your friendship is important to me. That's why you need to know that there is absolutely nothing between Narcissa Malfoy and I….she's married and even if she weren't, I would not be interested."

She looked up at him and her shoulders relaxed slightly as her eyes searched his. But as suddenly as she softened, she immediately straightened her back and shook her head.

"Quite frankly, you own me no explanation for your behavior. That's personal and it's none of my business who you associate with, sir-"

"Damnit, stop calling me sir!" he snapped heatedly, causing her pulse to quicken as he looked down upon her, anguished and vulnerable. "I'm not your superior or your teacher, Hermione. Stop pushing me away," he pleaded.

"I'm not trying to push you away, Severus," she answered meekly.

He sighed and stepped forward before he could stop himself, desperately wanting to be closer to her, to hear his name spill from her lips and have her all to himself. His long, cool fingers wrapped around her small, warm hand and she didn't pull away.

"Then why did you leave like that? Why have you avoided me this morning?" he asked, his thumb gently tracing her fingers.

She stared at him a long moment, relishing the tender, protective touch of his hand and internally debating what do to, her heart pitted firmly against her better judgement.

 _Say it, say it, say it. Tell him. Tell him you love him. What do you have to lose?_ her heart asked.

 _Him...I could lose him completely,_ her mind sadly replied.

She sighed as she swallowed the sweet words and felt them lodge painfully in her chest, never, she realized with a pang, to be spoken aloud.

"I'm sorry I left like that. It's just… I was embarrassed when I interrupted the two of you. You seemed very… _comfortable_ with each other and I felt a proper fool for not realizing there was something between the two of you sooner. I thought we had…." she stopped once more, almost on the verge of tears.

"You thought we had what?" he asked, looking slightly scared and maybe even hopeful.

"Nothing, it's nothing," she smiled sadly, "I was exhausted and I just needed a rest, I'm sorry I left so quickly. I'm just not feeling myself right now," she offered, pulling her hand from his, hoping the half-truth was enough to cover her heart.

He frowned as she pulled away, realizing his heart was pounding at a furious beat.

"You just seemed quite upset when you found us."

"I…yes, I was," she bashful admitted. "You're my friend, I care quite bit for you and I've never had a reason to trust that woman. I just don't want her to hurt you," she whispered, smiling sadly at him.

"She's just an old friend, nothing more, Hermione," he admitted.

She gave a nod but didn't seem convinced. Having come this far, he decided to push his luck just a tiny bit more.

"Hermione, I remembered something yesterday that I wanted to ask you about."

"You remembered something? What is it?" she asked, looking confused at the change of topics.

"From the night you saved me, in the shrieking shack," he replied slowly, trying to gauge her reaction and summon his own courage.

"Yes?" she asked, looking a bit wary.

His heart, already beating fast, was now thundering in his chest.

"Why did you-" he paused, swallowing.

"Why did I…what?" she asked cautiously.

But he paused again, because all throughout the long night and all this day he had weighed the possible reasons as to why this pure soul could ever kiss him.

He had narrowed the pool of possible reasons down to three.

Temporary insanity, induced by profound fear topped the list.

Followed by pure, unrequited love, as positively insane as it sounded.

An lastly, and most reasonably, the reason that saddened him the most, she had kissed him out of pity.

It was possible she had some form of misguided affection for him, maybe even a school girl crush, but she could only base it upon who she thought he was, some dark prince with a heart of gold she imagined him to be. She could never know and love the real him. No one could.

Every connection he had in his life had been based upon some twisted notion of affection, an artificial facsimile of the real thing.

Lily's friendship had been pity of a poor, abused boy.

Lucius' allegiance had been based upon brotherly manipulation of a social outcast.

Albus' protection had been based on paternal affection of a prodigal son.

And now Hermione…what possible motivation could she have beyond pity? He rationalized that it simply had to be the answer. And he knew he couldn't bear it, not again, not from her.

The way she had saved him, kissed him, befriended him, the look upon her face as she thumbed through his medical chart, and her look as she saw his dark mark. Pity was behind it, all of it. Useless, demeaning, goddamn, horrible pity...a full circle back to exactly what he had with Lily. All the signs were there, but he had stubbornly chosen to ignore them.

How foolish and desperate could he possibly be? Was he either so starved for connection he would accept any type of relationship, regardless of how twisted it was? Or was he simply too dense to tell the difference between what was real and what wasn't?

No, he might have grown to care for her, but he knew from personal experience that one-sided affection would only lead to heartache. No, he refused to traverse that lonely road once more.

He would fulfill his promise to her and fix this damned castle, and then he would leave. Nothing awaited him here, nothing good at least, that much was crystal clear.

"Severus, ask me, what did you want to know?" she implored, stepping closer to him, and slipping her hand into his, secretly, silently, encouraging him to say the words she hadn't been brave enough to utter.

Looking into her exquisite eyes he realized, as with his whole life, his only choice wasn't between happiness and sorrow, but rather between which kind of suffering he would have to endure.

The sting of yet another relationship based upon pity or the aching loneliness of not having her at all.

Calling upon his well-honed skill of self-preservation, he chose to suffer the pain of loneliness rather than suffer the sting of pity. It could have been love, perhaps, but in truth he was too terrified in that moment to risk his tender heart and find out.

Thoroughly aware of just how alone he was in this world, he gave a measured, composed nod, looking as if he'd merely forgotten what he had wanted to say.

"Nothing," he swallowed thickly, pulling his hand from hers, "I believe I already have my answer."

He took a step back. "I'll let you get going. I know you have a lot to do. As do I. I'll begin looking into curses and report back when I know more," he said as he backed away, eyes cast to the floor.

He looked so strange just then, all of his impervious masks and personas seemed to fall away.

The authoritative professor. The impeccable spy. The soulless death eater. The war-torn hero.

All vanished in an instant, and left but a man, hopeless and damned and lost in the sea of life. The years seems to melt from him then and he looked so young, almost innocent, but also terribly alone and broken in a way that couldn't be repaired.

She wanted to pull him in and kiss him, pour out every word trapped in her heart and heal every inch of him with her love alone. But she had missed her chance and he was closed to her now, she knew he always would be.

He swept from the room without another word. It was several minutes before Hermione realized she was still rooted to the spot, tears streaming down her face, staining her shirt, completely alone in the room, the world, even.

 _Narcissa could never have him, but then again...neither could I,_ she realized as the weight settled heavily atop her and stole her breath.

She bowed her head and all alone, she let herself sob. Her arms snaked around her waist, wrapping so tight, trying to hold in the terrifying wave of want and sorrow. But still the tears came. She squeezed tighter, hope to stop the bleeding his retreat had caused, hoping to stop this ache. But still, it came.

As she hit rock bottom, the most terrifying feeling washed over her. This longing for him, as illusive as he would always be, this feeling for him, this love, would never go away. She would carry it about with her forever, like a scar deep within. And no amount of crying or longing or wishing it away would change it. Her love for him was a burden she would just have to bear.

She let her arms fall to her side, aching and heavy. Covered in tears and sweat, her whole body suddenly felt exhausted once more, shaky and weak, as if she hadn't just ingested one of the world's most powerful healing potions.

She roughly rubbed the tears away, her breath hiccuping painfully in her chest as she reigned in her choked sobbing. Her eyes red-rimmed and her cheeks splotchy, she wearily grabbed her clipboard and headed to the kitchen to hand out work assignments, her heart heavier than she ever thought possible.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Hello, lovelies! Thank you for the reviews, follows and favs! As always, they are greatly appreciated :) And a huge shout-out to** ** _Marcella Dix_** **for being my partner-in-crime, a huge support and an invaluable friend :) A longer author note is at the bottom of the chapter regarding the remainder of the story. But for now, Happy Reading!**

* * *

 _"There is no remedy for love but to love more."_

 _-Henry David Thoreau_

Hermione sat at the large, communal, kitchen table, eating dinner with the others, listlessly pushing her peas around her plate. Although noise surrounded her, including boisterous laughter, loud chitchat, pans being scraped and washed, wine glasses being filled and quickly drained, Hermione sat quietly beside Minerva and Poppy, feigning work on her to-do while she avoided the others, for in truth she didn't feel like talking to anyone. One eye was trained on the clipboard set before her, checking off items that had actually been completed earlier that day, and the other eye was on the kitchen portrait hole, watching, waiting, dreading and hoping.

She hadn't seen Severus since he left the infirmary the day before and his absence left her feeling shaken and unsure where exactly they stood. He made himself scarce, having not been at the morning meeting, not at lunch and nowhere throughout the castle, as far as Hermione could tell. Minerva assured her that he was fine and in fact was busy with Bill Weasley, the pair covertly and carefully doing a thorough sweep of the castle, looking for curses, hexes and jinxes of any variety.

"He'll report back when he has some news," Minerva tried in a soothing voice as she caught sight of Hermione ignoring her dinner and worriedly eying the door.

"They should've been done by now," Hermione sighed, pushing her half-eaten dinner away.

As dinner plates were cleared away and platters of carrot cake appeared around the table, Winky appeared with a crisp ' _Crack!'_ of apparition beside Hermione and Minerva, causing the pair to look up, surprised.

The elf, offering an apologetic smile, handed the headmistress a small, sealed, green envelope. "For you, headmistress," came her gentle, squeaky voice.

"Thank you, Winky," Minerva smiled at the elf, who scampered away to join Agnes and Bobbin at the sink, each elf elbow-deep in suds and greasy pans.

Minerva opened the envelope as the rest of table continued their chatting and dessert, everyone, that is, but Hermione and Poppy, who each flanked the headmistress and both eyed the cream-colored parchment expectantly. As the headmistress unfolded the note and Hermione spied the familiar, neat handwriting upon it, the same script that had graced the margins of her potions essays for years, she inadvertently smiled and felt her dastardly heart give a small flip of approval.

 _A thorough search has been performed by both myself and Bill Weasley._

 _No curses, hexes or jinxes were detected._

 _Going in search of answers._

 _-SS_

"No curses then," Hermione whispered to Poppy and Minerva, who both met this with a sigh of relief, one that Hermione could not share in.

Folding the letter in half and surreptitiously slipping it into her robes before anyone else at the table could see it, Minerva smiled, seemingly satisfied.

Hermione gave a weary sigh and asked, "Well…now what? Certainly there is more that should be done?"

"I'm not sure much more action is needed at the moment. No poison or curses present, I'm not entirely sure what else we can possibly look for," Minerva answered simply.

"Besides, your potion seems to be doing the trick," Poppy noted quietly, glancing around the table. "Everyone seems in good shape tonight, even after the long day of work."

Hermione, too, had noted that everyone seemed in good spirits, eating heartily and laughing, most looking healthier than she could ever remember.

Glancing across the table at all of her boys, as she affectionately thought of them, Remus and Sirius sat beside one another, regaling Neville, Harry and even Draco with tales of their misspent youth. All of them laughing, even Draco, whose presence suddenly didn't seem all that out of place among the swath of old friends.

As her eyes glided across the table, everyone seemed happy that night, at ease even, as they sat and relaxed after the long day of work.

Much reconstruction headway had also been accomplished that day, without leaving anyone all that weak, either physically or magically. The strengthening potion did seem to be working, even Hermione felt her magical essence waxing and her overall strength returning, but still, she felt a nagging worry that they weren't out of the woods just yet.

"We'll keep to the four-person schedule for a few more days, just to err on the side of safety, until everyone has completed a full week's worth of potions. But barring any further incidents of weakness or unexplained energy loss, I think we might be in the clear," Minerva said with a relieved smile. "A two-person schedule and a September opening seem well-within reach," she noted as she happily sipped her tea and looked as carefree as Hermione had ever seen her.

Hermione wanted to press the issue, and give voice to her lingering doubts, but as Minerva turned slightly to speak with Poppy, Hermione knew the issue was as good as closed to the headmistress.

So why then did she still worry? Why not let it go? No poison and no curse, what more was there to worry about? Had years of fighting and terror left her incapable of appreciating times of true peace? Would she always see trouble wherever she looked, even though there was none to be found?

After all, what concrete evidence did she have besides a gut-feeling and a hunch that something was amiss? Besides the minor hiccup with the tapestry, and even that could've been due to her own tired eyes, what evidence did she have that this all wasn't just extreme exhaustion?

No evidence whatsoever, just her intuition.

Eyeing her checklist, it dawned on her that she had relied far too much upon her instincts as of late, and each instance of going with her gut, only seemed to make her look a proper fool. Every single encounter with Severus had her reading into his behavior, making guesses and look where it landed her? Overstepping her bounds and scaring him off.

No, she firmly decided. Hunches and gut feelings would have to take a back seat to empirical evidence. But no sooner had she thought this than her mind drifted back to Severus' note.

 _Going in search of answers._

Clearly, he too, was not ready to declare them all in the clear, health-wise, but what plans did he have? What answers could he possibly find on his own? And from what source?

The questions nagged at her cluttered mind, begging to be answered. She should stay away from him, hell given how he left her yesterday, she shouldn't even be thinking about him. Rationally, she knew that, but still she found her thoughts wandered to him, unable to shut him out.

Eyeing Winky at the sink, her small frame situated atop a wooden stool as she dried dishes, Hermione thought of something and excused herself from the table.

Joining the elf at the sink as Agnes and Bobbin went to put away the freshly-cleaned pots, Hermione crouched down beside her and asked in a hushed tone, "Winky, when did Severus give you that note?"

"Just now," Winky squeaked, looking up from her task. "Sir summoned me to his quarters. Told me to deliver it straight to headmistress. Then he left."

"Did he tell you where he was going?" Hermione asked, both worried and curious.

"No, Missy, not at all. But he headed to the east side of school, if that helps," Winky replied with a hopeful smile.

"Thank you, Winky, that's very helpful," Hermione said with a smile as she hurriedly stood.

Grabbing her clipboard from the table, she bade the group a hurried 'good night' and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" asked Poppy, with Minerva sharing the same puzzled look at their young friend's sudden exit.

"To find out what he's up to," Hermione softly uttered to the pair as she slipped out of the portrait hole and into the quiet, darkened hallway.

An afternoon spent alongside Harry, Draco and Neville, working on shoring up the stone pillars at the base of the west wing of the castle had left her covered in dirt, sunburnt on her neck and shoulders and thoroughly worn-out. But just the mere thought of Severus off and alone worried her and she found her legs suddenly strong and capable as she sprinted down ruined corridors and winding staircases, almost as if she were being pulled to him.

She reached the rarely-used east wing doorway and rushed out of it into the cool, clear night.

The fresh scent of pine and the sharp snap of a million cicada wings greeted her as the oaken door closed behind her, taking with it any torchlight.

Darkness surrounded her and her eyes, now alert and eager, took a moment to adjust. Once they did, she glanced across the sloping, verdant grounds but a moment until she saw his unmistakable form at the base of the lawn below. Tall and imposing, casting a long shadow from the moon high above and wearing his dark traveling cloak, he was trudging towards the open clearing, out past the still-ruined quidditch pitch.

She felt herself halt there a moment, just watching him march away. She silently repeated the mantra she had recited since the day before.

 _Stay away from him. You're only making this harder on yourself._

She knew that given his acute absence the past day that he clearly didn't want company and knew he wished to avoid her in particular. And she wanted to honor his desire for privacy and solitude, both as a courtesy to him and to keep her own traitorous heart in one piece.

But watching him move toward the edge of the grounds, she found she couldn't honor that tacit agreement, the pull to him was simply too strong to resist.

Without thinking, her legs began to move on their own accord. Running down the hill, she rationalized that she needed to find out where he was going, what answers he was searching for, to be helpful to him in some way. But she knew these were mere excuses, she wanted to be near him and hear his voice, for even a day without him had already felt like too much time alone to bear.

Rushing down the hill, her long legs aided by gravity, she breathlessly shouted, "Severus! Wait!"

He immediately halted and turned at the noise, the look of mild annoyance and curiosity he offered quickly giving way to outright contempt as his eyes swept across her and his face set in cold, stony indifference.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked a bit sharply, eyeing her with a mixture of confusion and vexation as she came to a stop before him.

"I was with Minerva when she received your note," she gasped, trying to catch her breath and ignore the scowl on his face. "I wanted to know what you found out during your search," she said with a weak smile.

"No curses, just as I stated in the note," he answered cooly as he turned and started down a gravely path that skirted the pitch, headed in the direction of the woods.

"W-where are you going?" she asked, jogging again to keep up with his long legs.

"I'm going into the Forbidden Forest," he offered briskly as he ducked under a weeping willow. "Albus continues to dodge me and Minerva thinks I'm off my rocker. If they can't be bothered to answer my questions, then I'm going to talk to someone who will."

"Who?" she asked, falling into stride beside him.

"Firenze," he offered in an exasperated tone. "He has always been a reliable source of information. His connection to the natural world coupled with his ability to intuit might give us some clue as to what's happening."

"May I come?" she inquired as they approached a large clearing, bright moonlight shining down upon them and the dense, quiet forest laying before them.

"No, I'm going alone," he firmly answered, his mouth set in a tight frown and his eyes cold, calculating.

"That's not safe, that forest is full of dangerous creatures, poisonous plants, you really shouldn't go alone," she gently pointed out, worry clear in her voice.

He scoffed at this and eyed her sharply, his mouth twisting into an angry smirk.

"You know, I'm not some invalid, I'm more than capable of taking care of myself. I'm not your responsibility," he bit out, crossing his arms as he turned to glare at her.

The remark, and the anger with which he said it, took her aback.

"I never said you were," she countered, looking confused and hurt at his tone. "Besides, if you go alone, I'll just sit here and worry until you return," she admitted.

The sweetness of her voice, coupled with the pleading look in her eyes only enraged him all the more.

"Thank you, mummy dearest," he snapped, "but I was going on covert, life-threatening missions before you were even born. I don't need your worry or your pity for that matter!" he spat, not bothering to conceal the rage that bloomed hot and sharp deep within his chest ever since realizing the young woman's true intentions towards him were insincere at best and outright insulting at worst.

But when confronted with this accusation, rather than look away guiltily or blush from having been caught, she held his gaze defiantly, her whole face betraying sadness, hurt and even disbelief.

"My pity? You…you think I pity you?" she softly asked, confusion lining her face.

"Of course, you do!" he hissed, ignoring her obvious pain and focusing on his own. "Why else would you befriend me?"

Her face fell at this and she shook her head sadly.

"That's what you think of me?" she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Pity?" she repeated, her mind seemingly unable to reconcile the man's anger with her own confusion and disbelief.

"I've never once pitied you," she uttered in a measured, careful tone although her eyes were suddenly sharp and red-rimmed with anger. "And I must admit, it hurts me to no end to have you believe that…to think so little of me and my intentions."

Of all the emotions flittering across her face, Severus noted that pity wasn't one of them.

Anger, to be sure. Her eyes filled with fire and her sweet mouth clamped shut, her small hands angrily planted upon her hips.

Indignation, certainly. Clearly his words had their desired effect, she was hurt.

Sorrow was there as well. But absolutely no pity. It gave him pause but only a moment's worth. And certainly not enough to get him to truly reconsider his assumptions.

"Oh really!? You've never pitied me!? Then tell me, why else would you have-" he stopped himself with the words ' _kissed me_ ' laced upon his tongue like a bitter poison, eating away at his heart.

"What? Why else would I have 'what'?" she asked sharply.

"Nothing," he breathed, holding his tongue and turning to stalk off. "I'm going alone…your company is neither desired nor required, so just go back inside," he wearily commanded, desperately needing to get away from her and find his composure.

But if he thought she would retreat to the safety of the castle that easily, he was sorely mistaken.

"I'm sorry but perhaps _you've_ forgotten," she pointedly replied, "I'm neither a child nor your student any longer. You can't tell me what to do," she countered, stubbornly refusing to leave and instead following him further into the tall grass.

"No!" he barked at her over his shoulder. "Go sit your behind on the steps, you're not coming with me!" he stated firmly.

"Like hell I'm not! You can't go alone!" she yelled at him, once more bounding after him.

He whirled around at this and she practically smacked right into his chest at his sudden halt. As she looked up, she gasped slightly at the incensed look he bestowed upon her.

"Why are you being so bloody bossy?!" he shouted, staring her down, trying his best to channel his inner demons and frighten her away.

"Why are you being so stubborn?! And mean?!" she countered, standing tall and proud, her face contorted with anguish.

"Because that's who I am, in case _you've_ forgotten," he hissed, stepping close enough to tower over her and intimidate her into leaving him alone.

But if he thought she would back down or scamper away in fright, he once more found himself in the unfortunate position of having misjudged her.

Her face fell at this, but rather retreat she merely offered a soft sigh.

"No, you're not mean, not really...not to me," she boldly uttered, her voice softer now but still just as fierce and resolute, fire dancing in her eyes.

"What would you know of me!?" he demanded, feeling himself quickly becoming unglued by merely being so close to her.

"More than you think, Severus," she uttered, the hardness in her eyes fading as understanding and warmth graced them yet again and he swallowed at the longing that crept upon him.

She truly did possess some of the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen and he knew they were dangerous to look upon for too long. But there he was, staring into them and losing what little control he had.

Those rich, stunning brown eyes….so unlike Lily's that he hardly even thought to compare the two. They unnerved him and weakened his iron-tight resolve like nothing else in this whole world. Something about them, the way they held his with compassion and understanding, the way they seemed to look right through him, and easily see the true him that he so carefully hid from the entire world. Even an accomplished wizard like himself had to admit, it was one hell of a trick.

His fingers involuntarily twitched as the powerful urge to reach up and cup her face tore through him. He had to dig his nails tight into the palm of his hand to stop himself from doing just that.

He silently turned and swept away rather than give into his baser urges or even offer a dry retort. He may not be able to completely shut out his feelings for the young witch, that much was perfectly clear, but he was smart enough to know when to cut his losses and fold. Fleeing, and quickly at that, seemed like his best option.

"Please, Severus...let me come. It is unwise to go alone," she practically begged, her voice carrying across the distance he put between them and beckoning to him.

He stopped in his tracks, sighing, as his shoulders sagged in defeat, a tired resignation sweeping over him as his anger drained away, leaving him vulnerable and defenseless.

"Suit yourself," he flatly replied, knowing it would be pointless to argue with such a stubborn woman. He'd let her come and ignore her completely. He had, after all, done that for years, one more night of it should be a breeze.

He pulled his shrunken broom from his cloak pocket and re-enlarged it to its full size. He then broke a bristle off of the end of his broom. Laying this flat on the ground, he then transfigured it into another full-size broom. Picking it up, he made to hand it to her but she froze at the sight, refusing to take it.

"Wait, we have to fly?" she asked, her voice quaking slightly.

"Yes, the distance is far too great to cover by foot," he offered matter-of-factly as he held out the broom for her.

"How far?" she whispered, her eyes going wide at the mere sight of the broom.

"At least ten miles if not more, by this time of year they may have already receded to the base of that mountain," he pointed to the north, "which is fifteen miles away."

"I can walk that," she said confidently, looking at the large mountain in the distance.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm but I have no intention of traipsing about these damn woods all night. Besides, given your recent injuries, a thirty mile trek seems unwise," he noted, as she finally took the broom from him, her hand shaking slightly.

"Can't we apparate?" she asked, looking hopeful.

"The apparition wards extend to the entire forest which is a good fifty miles north of here," he answered, quickly growing irritated with the myriad of questions.

"Now," he intoned, mounting his broom, "follow me."

With a swift kick-off from the ground, Severus soared into the cloudless night, the cool air brushing against his flushed cheeks and soothing his frazzled nerves. He had only made to the top of the surrounding trees when he turned around but the girl was nowhere in sight. Glancing around in confusion, he finally looked down to see Hermione still on the ground below, broom clutched between her legs and her body rooted to the earth.

With an irritated huff, he turned fully around and came in for a landing, touching down with practiced ease beside her.

"Is your broom not functional?" he asked sharply.

"No, it's fine," she answered, eyeing the ground.

"Does your arm still hurt?"

She shook her head.

"Is your magic too insubstantial at the moment to fly?" he tried.

"Um…no, my aura levels have improved a bit…it's not that," she hedged.

He gave an aggravated sigh and fixed her with his famous stare.

"Care to tell me _why_ you're still on the ground?" he asked, his annoyance readily apparent.

"I just…I-" she stammered and then fell silent.

"What it is?" he angrily demanded, but she only remained silent, causing his ire to bloom once more.

 _Isn't it obvious? She doesn't want to be anywhere near you._

The nasty thought grew quickly, causing his temper to sharpen once more as he glared at her.

"If you'd rather not accompany me, then stay in the castle," he said acidly. "As I said, I can go alone…I'm used to it."

"No," she quickly replied, looking uncertain. "I want to go with you, it's just…" she began and faltered.

"It's just what, Hermione?" he challenged.

"I really hate to fly," she sighed, looking up to meet him with embarrassed, reddened cheeks.

He paused at this, noticing how her body was shaking and a light sheen of sweat had broken out across her brow even though a cool breeze swept across the open field.

"You do not like to or you're afraid to?" he inquired, his voice somehow softening even though he hadn't meant for it to.

She didn't answer, but instead looked away, her eyes sweeping across the forest. Standing so close to her now, he could see the trepidation so clearly in her fidgety hands and worried eyes. He knew the answer to his question.

"You're a perfectly capable flier, is it just a fear of heights? Because we can fly low-" he tried.

But she adamantly shook her head, clumsily dropping the broom to her feet as she wrapped her arms snug around herself trying desperately to fight off the shiver racing through her body.

"It's not just the height that I fear...this isn't a simple phobia," she explained. "Every time I've been on a broom or up in the air in any way, it's always involved a near-death experience so I just can't associate a broom with anything but fear."

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry to have bothered you. I'll…I'll let you get going. I'm just too afraid," she murmured with reddened cheeks.

She reached down and grabbed the broom and stepped forward to hand it back to him, her eyes shamefully cast aside.

But as she handed over the broom and went to retreat, his free hand shot forward and gently clasped hers. Her breath caught from the contact as she looked up at him, surprised at the way he tenderly held onto her even though he had been yelling at her not five minutes ago.

He eyed her a moment, his face still set in a frown before letting out a heavy sigh.

"Let's see if we can change that...fly with me," he offered, his earlier annoyance melting away the longer he held her small, warm hand.

He never should've grabbed it, he knew it would be his downfall. For he knew the second his palm touched hers, and her smooth warm skin rested against his, that all of his bravado and false detachment would make for the hills and leave him a swooning schoolboy in front of her. But as her big brown eyes gazed up into his, he found he didn't much care what he looked like in front of her, so long as she held his hand so tenderly.

"You're right, after all...it's foolhardy of me to go alone," he offered, trying to give her, and himself, a rational reason to not go alone. "Please….do me the favor of making sure I make it back in one piece."

But she frowned at this, wariness painted across her face.

"It's alright…you don't have to say that. I know you'd prefer to go alone," she offered, trying to pull away, but he would have none of it.

"I wouldn't actually. Your company…would be lovely," he softly admitted, cursing himself anew for his complete inability to turn her away.

 _This is only going to make it worse on yourself,_ he silently chastised. And he knew come tomorrow he would regret this lapse of letting her in once more, but right now, all he wanted was her. To feel her and hold her, to know what that joy felt like even if it wasn't real for her.

He suspended the charm on her broom and it immediately shrunk back into a useless bristle. Casting this into the grass, he then scooted back on the broom, leaving plenty of room for her to join him.

"Well, what do you say?" he asked extending his hand for her.

She gave a small, tentative smile as she took his hand and gingerly swung her leg over the broom.

Seated in front of him and grasping the wood between her trembling thighs with both hands, she squared her back and turned her head slightly to look at him, her eyes wide with trepidation.

"All ready?" he asked.

She gave a weak smile as he carefully slid forward and slipped his arms around the front of her, grasping the broom firmly in his hands.

"Have you ever ridden tandem?" he asked.

She nodded, still looking frightened.

"Alright, I'll do all the steering, you just stay close to me," he gently noted.

His right hand on the broom, he gently wrapped his left arm around her waist, slowly snaking against her stomach, until his large hand gripped her side. Feeling the delicious heat of her skin through her thin t-shirt, he stifled a moan of sudden pleasure as he pulled her snug against his body. "Like this," he softly murmured into her ear, sending a snap of electricity straight to her center, his velvety voice causing her skin to automatically prickle with goose bumps.

His large hand cradling her side, his fingers splayed along the curve of her waist and his thumb placed right above her hip bone, she couldn't help but recall this was the exact spot he had held her that fateful, so many years ago, when she first felt this tremendous connection to him. She had felt just as frightened then as she did right now and once more he was there to hold her tight and keep her safe.

She closed her eyes, trying to even out her shallow breathing and found that the reassuring weight of his strong, firm body mold to her back brought a warm, welcome comfort.

"Just hold on tight and remember to breathe," he reminded her.

"Alright, just p-please don't go too fast and don't do any dips or flips. Ron did that once, scared the life out of me, I damn near fell off," she admitted.

"I would never do such a thing," he replied, his arm still tucked firmly around her.

"I know you wouldn't, I'm just-"

"Scared," he helpfully replied.

Her body shaking against his, looking straight ahead at the long stretch of forest they had to cover, he whispered, "Don't be afraid... I'd never let anything bad happen to you."

She eyed him a moment, her eyes dipping to his lips for the briefest of moments, then back to his concerned gaze.

"Promise?" she whispered, her full lips so dangerously close to his own.

"With all my heart," he admitted, unable to lie to her.

"Are you ready?" he asked one last time.

She closed her eyes and gave a shaky nod.

"Three, two, one," and off he pushed against the soft ground and then slowly, but steadily set off into the night sky.

Her hands gripped the broom as tight as she possibly could, her small knuckles going pure-white, as her body seized with raw fear. His arm wrapped tight around her waist, his fingers gripping her side and pulling her as close as he could against his chest, trying to calm her through touch alone. She gratefully nestled against him, her body molding to his perfectly, but he could feel her body tense beneath him, stiff as a board and her breaths coming rapidly, her heart thundering beneath her chest.

"Breathe, just breathe, I'm going to go nice and slow," he whispered, his lips right against the delicate shell of her ear.

He held her tight as he steadily climbed above the towering tree tops and soared through the night sky, with only the celestial bodies above them. He flew a steady course, no turns or dips whatsoever and the farther he flew, he could gradually feel her body relax into him, losing some of its rigidity as they slowly flew through the air. But even as she relaxed slightly, her eyes stayed firmly shut and her head turned inward, tucked towards his chest.

"You're missing the best part…you should really open your eyes," he gently commanded.

She did as he had asked. Cautiously peeling one eye open and then another, the look that took shape upon her face was one that Severus swore, if he should live to be a thousand, he would never forget.

Every drop of fear and uncertainty drained from her face as a look of pure awe and child-like wonder shone in her eyes now, a tender smile pulling at her pink lips as she looked far and wide in every direction.

A blanket of deep greenery lay beneath them, gently swaying in the breeze and undulating beneath them like a emerald ocean. Impossibly tall mountains stretched and swelled in the distance and the stars that shone from above cast the earth beneath in a pale luminous glow. It simply was breathtaking to see it all from this vantage point and she smiled at the newness of it all.

Watching her take it all, he had to forcibly remind himself to keep his eyes straight ahead and not become entranced by the rare look of amazement on her face.

She released her hands from the broom then and grasped his forearm instead, slowly snaking her hands around him as best she could and held on tight to him.

That simple little act seemed to convey just how much she inherently trusted him, something that so few had ever granted him and he felt his chest lighten at her fierce embrace.

"I truly had no idea…it's so beautiful," she murmured, her face lit by the waxing moon, her soft tendrils framing her delicate face and eyes now glittering with wonder at the beauty before her.

"Indeed," he answered truthfully, his eyes unabashedly on her, joyous at the exquisite feeling of her body resting so sweetly against his own.

Glancing down at her, he could see goose pimples race across her bare arms and realized how cold the bracing night air must be for her. He magically spelled his cloak to wrap around the both of them, cocooning them in rich, comforting warmth.

She turned her head to look at him, her face full of silent gratitude and he found himself subconsciously pulling her in a bit tighter, reveling in her smile and joy. She leaned into him and gave a deep sigh of contentment.

Holding her tight, he wondered if maybe he had misjudged her yet again. Maybe the great Severus Snape had been wrong after all.

 _Maybe_ , his heart whispered, _maybe this never was pity._

For once, rather than argue and fight against himself, and squash this hope in deference to his own lowly image of himself, he silently acknowledged that her kindness and trust in him could be something more, something he had never even dared to dream for. Smiling at the very notion, he simply let this rare beautiful thought bloom in his heart, slowly and tentatively, like a desert flower spreading its rare, rich petals after a long, painful drought.

With these sweet thoughts keeping him company, he flew onward. Deeper into the night, taking them further north, the pines and elms stretching on endlessly beneath them in a sea of verdant green, with Severus enjoying every moment of her delicate hands wrapped around him.

 _~~~~0000~~~~_

"Hasn't it been ten miles yet?" Hermione asked a half hour later, her soft voice breaking through the thick fog of hope that clouded Severus' thoughts.

In truth, they had flown at least eleven or twelve, but glancing down through the thickening forest, Severus still saw no sign of the centaurs or any other magical beast for that matter. Which, given the warm weather, was quiet the oddity. Severus surmised that the creatures who usually inhabited the forest, including the centaurs, must've moved further north due to the wreckage caused by the final battle.

They flew at least several more miles before spotting the wafting smoke of a fire, a telltale sign they had found the centaurs' encampment.

Seeing a clearing ahead, he gently tilted the broom downward and steered straight ahead, the ground quickly rising up to meet them.

Hermione stiffened slightly again as the ground drew closer. Severus tightened his hold once more and angled the broom carefully toward the earth.

"Prepare to hop off as soon as your feet can touch," he announced as they drew closer to the ground, expecting a smooth landing.

But having been out of practice at tandem flying, Severus misjudged the angle and speed and the pair ended up hitting the field with more force than he planned. Rather than gently planting their feet and coming to a running-stop, they came in far too fast, with their feet snagging on the thick, uneven grass and their bodies being thrown hard from the broom.

Hurtling through the air, time seemed to slow down somehow. Severus registered that Hermione, situated in front of him, was about to hit the ground face-first, with her bad arm baring the brunt of the forceful impact.

Faster than he thought humanely possibly, his arm grasped her waist tight, midair, and pulled her hard against himself. He managed to twist his body and shield her from the harsh impact a mere split second before his shoulder and head plowed directly into the hard earth and Hermione landed directly atop him.

His shoulder aching and his skull ringing slightly from the jarring crash, his eyes opened to see his arms wrapped tight around her, pulled flush to his chest as her legs wrapped around his.

Face to face and breathing hard from the fall, their eyes immediately widened with worry for each other.

"Your arm…is it alright?" he asked.

"Your poor shoulder! Can you move it?" she inquired at the exact same moment.

"I'm fine," they both answered simultaneously which caused a small ripple of laughter from each of them.

"Are you sure? You landed pretty hard," she noted gently as she carefully touched his shoulder, her eyes crinkled in worry as she tenderly rubbed the joint through his dress-shirt to feel for any breaks. He watched her a moment, stunned not only by her touch but also by the fact that she still lay atop him, their bodies almost as one, as if laying atop him like this were perfectly natural.

"Yes…yes, I'm alright," he finally uttered, his sore head spinning both from the crash and the rush of having such a beautiful woman hold him.

"Thank you...for catching me…again. You really didn't have to do that," she murmured as her fingers moved slowly from his shoulder to rest softly atop his chest, her warm body feeling so achingly perfect against his own.

"Of course I did, I told you…I'd never let any harm befall you, not if I could help it," he breathed, a look of relief passing across his face that she hadn't been injured.

"Besides, it's my fault we landed in such a heap," he sheepishly admitted. "I could've done that much better."

"It's fine, really," she assured him, loving how tight he held on to her even though he didn't need to. "It's actually good to know you're not perfect at everything," she softly chuckled, her chest heaving slightly against his, a tendril of her hair gently cascading down to brush against his pale cheek.

Her mouth pulled into a genuine smile and her deep, brown eyes shone bright with stunning flecks of goldenrod and mossy-green and for a long breath he stared at her. He reached up and gently tucked that supple curl behind her ear and smiled up at her.

How his fingers longed to sweep along the curve of her jaw and pull those rosebud lips to his.

To feel her once more, to have the sweet taste of her honey lips upon his and feel them first-hand rather than recall them from memory.

To make her feel even an ounce of the passion that coursed through his veins each and every time he looked at her.

He realized a beat too late that he'd been staring at her and holding her tight for far longer than was strictly appropriate. He shook his head, trying to find his equilibrium, and sense of propriety, which seemed to wander off at will every single time he found himself near her.

"Forgive me," he bashfully uttered as he withdrew his hands and carefully slid out from beneath her, an odd look passing across her face as he did so.

He quickly stood and offered her a hand to stand up.

She gladly accepted it and stood, the pair eyeing the trees surrounding them.

"Who goes there?!" came a loud, deep voice coming from the thicket to their right.

As their eyes swept across the forest, no one could be seen.

"It's Severus Snape and Hermione Granger," Severus called out to the seemingly empty woods.

The trees seemed to move and part just then and produce several large centaurs, with Firenze, tall and proud, leading the pack, a bow and arrow clutched firmly in his hands. Eying the humans before him, he slowly lowered the weapon.

"Severus Snape, what brings you this far into our home?" Firenze called, his deep baritone voice neither threatening nor welcoming, but rather curious.

"My apologies, Firenze, for the intrusion," Severus replied as the centaurs slowly approached and silently watched the pair, their own bows still pointed in their general direction.

"I take it you are leader of your pack now?" Severus asked.

"Magorian died in the last battle," Firenze replied solemnly, "I am leader now."

"I'm saddened to hear that. His sacrifice was not in vain," Severus granted, earning him a thoughtful nod from Firenze.

"Life involves loss and suffering, you should know that, Severus Snape," Firenze wryly noted as Hermione caught sight of the long, even scar that ran down the length of his back flank, the skin there puckered and hairless, a telltale sign of a recent injury.

"Lower your weapons, they mean us no harm," Firenze commanded to his pack and the surrounding centaurs obeyed, although several looked reluctant to do so.

"I ask again, why have you come to visit us tonight?" Firenze intoned from the edge of the trees, still looking uncertainly at his visitors.

"We've encountered a problem at the castle and we needed to speak with you. I need information," Severus offered directly.

"I am always at your disposal, Severus Snape. You helped protect my people over the years. Follow me," Firenze instructed.

He turned and lead a path back through the trees. His accompanying centaurs parted and allowed Severus and Hermione to enter the dark woods. Trudging at least another half mile through thick overgrowth, tangled plants and towering trees, they finally arrived at their camp. Passing through another set of wary centaur guards at a makeshift gate, they entered the encampment, which consisted of several, round tent-like domes which surrounded a large, crackling fire that was flanked on all sides by fallen oaks.

As they approached the hearth, several small centaur children and their mothers backed away, apprehension clear in their startling blue eyes and they quickly retreated into tents, wary of the strange creatures who had ventured into their home. Firenze motioned for Severus and Hermione to sit atop the logs around the fire as he rounded the bonfire and stood across from them, his silver-blonde hair glowing from the firelight.

Severus and Hermione took their seats and watched as the remaining male centaurs filed in and surrounded them, their bows still very much present at their sides. Hermione scooted closer to Severus.

"Are you sure we're safe here?" she whispered, her eyes watching the centaurs with unveiled apprehension.

"Trust me, no harm will befall us. Firenze and I have a shared history," Severus offered confidently. Hermione nodded at this but still she worried.

"What is it you need to know?" Firenze finally asked, eyeing them from across the flames with open curiosity.

"Since the last battle, the people working on restoring the castle have become weakened, both physically and magically. It is not poison, we've checked," Severus replied.

"A curse perhaps?" Firenze postulated.

"No curses, we've done a thorough check. And the security wards are still in place. I don't know what could be causing this. I was hoping you might have some information," Severus offered.

Firenze was quiet a moment before offering a slow nod.

"There has been a disruption, as you've noted," Firenze concurred. "We could feel a pull, almost like a siphon...the closer we came to the castle, the harder the pull. That's why we have retreated so far into the forest. It's safer out here," he noted, his eyes looking towards the castle in the distance with a good deal of concern.

"You felt like your energy was being siphoned? But how?" Severus asked.

"That I do not know," Firenze admitted. "You're the scholar, not I. But I do know something within the castle is seeking magical energy."

"Like a succubus?" Hermione speculated.

"Much stronger, Hermione Granger. Much stronger," Firenze intoned.

"What could be so large to cause that kind of damage?" she inquired.

"I do not have these answers. But perhaps… a reading of the stars could offer some insight," Firenze declared.

At this, he turned and swept into an adjoining tent and emerged a moment later, holding two large bundles of greenery; one consisting of long, feathery, pale stalks, and the other of short, thick, supple leaves, both were wrapped in twine.

"Mallowsweet and Sage," he explained, as he set the bundles down, "to help read the stars, should they be willing to offer up such a courtesy."

"You really think this is what we need right now?" she whispered to Severus, looking uncertain.

"Do we have any other options at the moment?" he whispered back.

"You do not believe in this divine art, Hermione Granger?" Firenze called out, his eyes looking up to catch hers with a hint of amusement at having caught their hushed conversation.

She blushed slightly and eyed the male centaurs, looking at her with a sharp gaze and swallowed her nerves.

"No…I do not," she answered plainly.

Firenze offered a rare smile at this, chuckling deep within his chest.

"Magic comes in many shapes, and not always in ways we like or respect," Firenze noted.

"I mean no disrespect to your _art_...I simply prefer to rely on empirical evidence, research…not intuition," Hermione replied, shifting slightly under the centaur's intense gaze.

"All thinking and no feeling?" Firenze wisely noted, his cerulean blue eyes holding hers with confidence.

"Feelings can lead you astray," she answered, shifting her gaze away.

"But even a brilliant witch such as yourself must acknowledge that reason will only take you so far. In the hardest of times, sometimes intuition, _feelings_ as you put it, are the only means we have of finding a way….you would do well to remember that," he intoned as he the threw the two bundles into the fire.

The crackling fire roared to life then as the bundles burned and curled into dried, blackened branches. Violet and evergreen flames took shape within the fire and Firenze looked heavenward to follow the colored smoke rise high into the sky, his face blank and his body perfectly still.

"The stars are aligning in a worrisome way. A powerful bond has been broken...and now a dark cloud is coming, something strong," he noted his voice deepening even further.

"Can you tell what it is?" Severus asked.

"Destruction….chaos….sadness…loss," he offered, his eyes still heavenward.

"Can it be stopped?" Hermione asked.

"No, it is coming, that much is clear, but," he paused, "a force exists that can heal the destruction. A powerful force…but it must be freely given. Not forced…not taken. Willing offered to restore strength and harmony," Firenze declared.

"What kind of force? Freely given…what does that mean?" Hermione called out, but Firenze still looked up, his breathing deep, having barely even heard her as he watched the sky intently.

"Purity of heart, devotion…it will find a way but only if you let it," Firenze pronounced.

Hermione caught Severus' confused gaze, both complete perplexed by the declaration.

"It seems you have heard this all before, Severus Snape," Firenze noted, his voice deep and wise, as he scanned the stars. "How many times must you be told before you will listen?"

Hermione looked puzzled at the words and she glanced at Severus, hoping for an answer. His eyes widened a fraction at this and his face dropped, the color draining from his cheeks.

"What does he mean? You've heard this before?" she softly asked, laying a gentle hand on his leg to get his attention.

Severus' gaze finally broke free from Firenze and he looked at her, not knowing what to say.

As the colorful smoke dissipated into the ethos, Firenze gently shook his head, his eyes focusing once more on his visitors, as if coming out of a trance.

"Look to the castle itself," Firenze said cautiously as he eyed the distance. "All magic has a source, including Hogwarts itself. I believe the answer you seek will be found there."

"You must go now. I hope you find what you seek," Firenze said as he gave a sharp nod to his fellow centaurs. The surrounding creatures gave a loud hoot and two of them stepped before Hermione and Severus, their cue to stand and take their leave.

Escorted back through the dense forest by the two imposing centaurs, both Severus and Hermione were silent, each weighing what they had just heard. Depositing their guests on the edge of the clearing, the two centaurs wordlessly turned and vanished once again into the swaying trees, the distant stomping of their hooves disappearing after a few moments.

As they marched across the clearing to fetch their broom, Hermione finally broke the heavy silence that hung in the air.

"What did he mean by that? 'You've heard this before?' Have you had a prophecy of some kind?" she asked, causing him to stop in his tracks.

"Not a prophecy, per say. Just…a warning," he admitted warily, Lily's word coming back full force now.

"What kind of warning?" she inquired.

"That something dark was coming, that I would play an integral part in stopping it…but I don't really know how I'm supposed to do that," he reluctantly admitted, looking for once, completely at a loss.

"When were you told this?" she couldn't help but asking, a small flicker of irritation apparent in her voice at having just found this out.

"On the night of the final battle, I had…a vision," he conceded, looking ashen and slightly distraught.

"Who told you this?" Hermione asked, upset and uncertain herself.

"It doesn't matter," he said dismissively, trying to regain his composure, "I was near death and I could have very well imagined it." But given the shaken look upon his face, Hermione was certain that wasn't the case.

Hermione frowned at this admission and heaved a heavy sigh.

"Well…this is just great," she replied, her voice suddenly sharp, "a warning and a star reading, both saying something horrible is coming our way. What else is new," she quipped, rubbing the bridge of her nose and looking thoroughly exhausted.

"What in the hell are we going to do?" she queried, looking at Severus, hoping he had some sort of answer because clearly she was all tapped out.

"Well, we rely on facts, for now," he evenly replied. "My vision and Firenze's read of the heavens may have been inaccurate. However," he continued, "Firenze did seem to confirm our suspicions, that the castle is taking our energy somehow. That explains why we've been weak and why the forest is so empty, all the creatures have moved away from Hogwarts…they can sense it as well," Severus noted, clinging to reason.

"But how can a building do that?" Hermione asked.

"I do not know," Severus replied honestly. "I've never known this kind of transference between an object and a living creature. If accurate…it's troubling, to say the least."

"Alright," Hermione conceded, gradually coming around to his way of thought, "if this is really happening, then how can it be stopped?"

"We must begin researching immediately and attempt to find not only a cause for such a transference but also a way to stop this," he offered as he picked up the broom again.

"Shouldn't we go to Minerva first?" Hermione questioned.

"With what? A reading of the stars and a hunch? No….we'll need some kind proof before we approach her. Firenze mentioned a bond had been broken, we'll start researching magical seals and go from there."

"But... if we can't find a way to fix this, then-" Hermione began, looking at the castle with uncertainty.

"Then we could all be in grave danger," he helpfully finished, a look of raw worry clear in his eyes.

Quickly mounting the broom, the pair pushed off together as one and took off into the cool night, a new more powerful fear gripping them both, pushing them harder and faster towards the castle, and hopefully, the truth.

 **A/N: Regarding SS & HG getting together, admitting feelings, etc. I just wanted to say that I'm taking my time because I want to get it right, I'm not trying to make them or you suffer with the angst. **

**According to the story timeline, we are only at mid-June, which would put the final battle about 6 weeks ago and Severus has only been out of his coma for about two or three weeks. I know a lot has happened since then and Severus has changed quite a bit but I don't think, realistically-speaking, he would awaken, fall in love and declare this love (for a girl he's taught and watched grow up, no less) so quickly.**

 **This is the same man who loved one woman his whole life and even though I've changed him, I don't want to ignore who he is at his very core: a loyal and honorable man, who is also stubborn as all get-out and who has never experienced true, mutual love. It isn't that he doesn't sense Hermione's affection or is too dumb to realize it, it's just that he's deeply afraid of letting himself love again and thus is turning a blind eye to her. Likewise, Hermione has suffered enough to know how easily she could lose him. In this story, she's lost her parents at a young age, has loved a man who at times has treated her poorly and lived through a terrifying war. She also doesn't hold herself in a very high opinion. She too thinks herself unworthy of love.**

 **So I need to create many moments where both of these damaged people can not only heal but also learn to how to love and accept love in return. I don't think this path to love would be smooth given their pasts, thus the angst and misunderstandings.**

 **So to that end, this story has least another 100,000 words (a rough estimate) and plenty of angst left, so if that's a deal breaker for you, feel free to stop reading. I understand that my style and slow-burn isn't for everyone. For those of you brave and patient enough to stick around, I swear to pour very ounce of heart possible into this and do my very best to give you a love story that will take your breath away….at least that's what I hope to do :)**

 **Finally, for the sake of maintaining surprise, I will not be posting specific trigger warnings for upcoming chapters. While no warnings for violence or sexuality will apply, please be aware that I will not be warning you of any other potentially distressing event(s) that may yet occur.**

 **Thank you, as always, for reading. Take care :)**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: My sincerest apology for the delay! A sincere 'thank you' to all of you lovely readers for being so patient and for all the incredibly beautiful and supportive reviews from the previous chapter. Lots of love to you all & Happy Reading :)**

* * *

 _"_ _There I was, way off my ambitions, getting deeper in love every minute, and all of a sudden I didn't care."_

\- _F. Scott Fitzgerald_

The long night had proven both exhausting and fruitless, as Hermione greeted the dawn from a table in the library, taking notes on magical transference between humans and objects, stifling her fourth yawn in as many minutes. As she scanned the same page once more, she gave a heavy sigh as she realized she hadn't actually read a single word contained therein; her eyes, bloodshot and aching from a lack of sleep, were no longer taking in new information for she was simply too exhausted.

After arriving back at the castle near midnight, Severus and Hermione immediately went to the library, and despite the late hour, delved straight into the arduous task of researching a variety of topics that were new to both of them.

The creation of magical bonds or seals, how said bonds could be broken or compromised, any history of Hogwarts that was not commonly known or published, any tidbit or scrap of information to support the idea that the castle had any kind of magical bond and that this bond could prove problematic to its inhabitants, if damaged.

Their challenging task was made doubly difficult by the decimated state of the beloved library. Although Narcissa and Poppy had made some headway in organizing and recovering some of the books, over half the texts had been burnt, waterlogged or outright destroyed, leaving their avenues of research substantially stunted. Hermione already had a list a foot long full of texts she would need to owl for from foreign magical libraries to help aid their work. And those texts that were viable, were completely out of order, with most usable books stacked haphazardly atop the circulation desk, with the floor length, dusty shelves mostly bare. And thus the tired pair spent the night wading through ruined texts, at candle lit table in the far corner of the darkened, cavernous room.

Hours spent frantically and thoroughly scouring the school library for scraps of useful information, however, resulted in almost no new insight into their worrisome predicament. Any information she could find on magical bonds centered around romantic bonds between people rather than bonds pertaining to objects or structures. And absolutely no information about objects drawing from humans for magical sustenance was to be found. She was slowly coming to realize that the information she needed either wasn't in their library or didn't even exist to begin with.

Hermione hadn't slept in a full day and she truly longed for sleep, desperate for the weightless reprieve it bought, but she fought the urge with what little strength she had left. Her body, aching, sore and close to all-out collapse, might've wanted to quit, but her mind would not hear of it. She needed answers and she needed them yesterday. She couldn't give up, not yet.

The dawn was just starting to break, slowly filling the darkened room with soft, morning light and still she poured over texts, searching, hunting, her mind screaming for answers that simply wouldn't come.

Across the table from her, and hunched over a thick tome of his own, sat Severus. But given his particular posture at the moment, 'lay' would have been a more accurate way of describing him; for sometime deep in the night, his own exhaustion won out and his head slid to a graceless heap atop the text before him, not even waking when his skull hit the desk with a dull 'thud'. The gentle sound of soft snoring soon followed.

She merely chuckled at the sight and continued on with her own work, knowing how precious little sleep he had managed in the last week. Rather than risk waking him by moving him into a more comfortable position, she merely transfigured a pillow and blanket for him from two ruined texts and made him as comfortable as she could before returning to her own work, a silent yet steadfast dedication to her work pulling sharply at her.

As she opened her ninth book on blood seals, she paused a moment to sit up properly and stretch the terrible ache in her lower back, wincing at how tight her muscles felt from sitting so long. As she did so, she noticed the sun, shining in through a tall window, fell upon her sleeping friend just so and cast him in a wave of soft, golden light.

As much as she hated to stop working, even for a moment, she found her longing beat out her zeal for research and she did stop, to simply watch the man she had loved so well and for so long. Foolish as it was to do so, she simply couldn't look away.

He was beautiful when he slept. Hell, she thought him handsome all of the time, but when he slept, it was as if the very best parts of him shone so brightly she could hardly stand to look away and miss even a single moment. Long, dark eyelashes resting against pale cheeks. Full, ruddy lips quirked into a peaceful smile. Delicate hands curled gracefully around a book, and for once, completely at rest.

He looked so thoroughly peaceful and calm that this rare tranquility seemed to fill the air around them and imbue her with an equal sense of calm, although she had no reason to feel as such. And yet, all the frantic thoughts and worries spinning through her mind suddenly quieted as she watched him.

The usual lines that framed his brow and thin lips were gone as his face betrayed a youthful innocence she rarely saw from him. She could almost imagine what he looked like as a child, serious and quiet, to be sure, but also pure and earnest.

He gave a deep sigh of contentment from his sleep and this slight shift caused a thick strand of hair to fall right before his eyes. Without hesitation, she leaned across the cluttered table and gently swept the lock back in place, her fingertips grazing his soft skin as she carefully tucked it behind his ear.

Pulling back to regain her seat, she saw his palm laying open atop the desk. Like a child drawn to a fluttering butterfly, she couldn't stop herself from reaching out to touch it, it looked too delicate and beautiful not to. The palm of his hand was so surprisingly soft and smooth, delicate even, save for the scar that ran the length of his thumb clear to his wrist. Her fingers traced the scar, the warmth there undeniable.

Pushing her luck a bit more, she gently slipped her hand into his, and felt his large hand cup hers, almost instinctively, as he held on surprisingly tight while sound asleep.

Eyeing their hands entwined, she felt a lightening in her chest, one that made her breath seize with surprise, although it really shouldn't have.

She let a true smile spread across her face at the sight as she carefully rubbed her thumb across his fingers. With the library perfectly empty and blissfully silent, she lingered in the moment as long as she dared, the beautiful quietude surrounding them in a world all their own.

Of all the silly, schoolgirl fantasies of him she had nursed over the years, this moment, him just holding her hand, this left her breathless. Where their hands met felt like a slow crackling fire, traveling through her whole body, both achingly slow and yet somehow racing at top speed. Her exhaustion, her ansxity suddenly didn't seem quite so sharp. If anything, she felt the stress and pressure of their mounting concerns lessen somehow and seem more manageable, a gentle sense of peace filling her as her eyes swept across his pale, luminous face. Just being near him felt like healing, in and of itself.

How he held her the previous night, how he touched her now, even deep in his sleep, she knew.

She knew, with absolute certainty, that he did indeed care for her.

Her affection for him clearly wasn't one-sided, as she had so thoroughly convinced herself. He tried to hide it, just as she did, probably for the exact same reason as she did, too; out of fear, insecurity and self-doubt. But she knew, that what she felt wasn't such a silly notion, that in some shape or form, he too, cared for her. And that maybe, if given time, the tenderness and concern he showed for her could grow and blossom into something true and genuine for him. Maybe one day he could truly love her, just as she loved him.

That thought alone gave her not only hope for her heart, but hope for the castle as well. For nothing sowed and grown with love could be broken beyond repair, love would always be the answer.

His brow furrowed then and he stretched slightly, just beginning to stir from his slumber. Feeling buoyed, both in mind and body, she gently squeezed his hand before pulling it away, picking up her quill and resuming her notes, schooling her features to hide the hope that dwelled and burned so brightly in her chest.

His eyes slowly fluttered open and a look of confusion crossed his face as he glanced down at his hand, he could've sworn he was holding something just a moment ago.

The curious absence caused him to look up suddenly, his eyes taking a moment to focus upon his rather peculiar surroundings.

He found himself in the library, slumped forward in a reading chair at a long table full of opened books, the cheery sunshine and smell of charred and mildewy books assaulting his weary senses. Another oddity were the tartan blanket covering his back and thick pillow tucked beneath his head, making his odd choice of a bed if not comfortable, at least tolerable. He smiled inwardly at how thoughtful the young woman who sat across from him could be. Looking up he finally saw her, and in truth, he was hard-pressed to think of a more beautiful vision to awaken to.

She smiled at him and for a moment he forgot to breathe, his eyes caught on how her hair, tumbling loose from her bun in soft tendrils, fell just so. The morning light pouring in through a window behind her cast her in the softest shades of buttery and bright lemon light and surrounded her with a glorious glow that felt so very befitting, as if she were the sun and effortlessly lit the whole world around her. She looked just like an angel he had once seen on a prayer book when he was a child; warm, lovely, golden, the very essence of light.

She momentarily halted her writing to gaze at him, the smile on her face genuine as it spread to her warm, honey-colored eyes.

"Good morning," she quietly murmured, as she bowed her head once more, resuming her notes, a small smile pulling at her lips.

"Good morning," he replied, sitting up and wincing slightly at the bright, cheery sun.

"How long have I been asleep?" he asked, rubbing at a slight kink in his neck.

"About four hours now," she responded without looking up.

He sighed deeply as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose, feeling a bit exposed and awkward at having fallen asleep in front of her.

"My apologies," he offered, his voice heavy and deeply soft from the sleep. "I don't even remember falling asleep. I did not intend to leave you with so much work."

"It's quiet alright," she answered, chuckling lightly at the cowlick that had formed on the side of his head where he had slept. "You were clearly exhausted, you needed the rest. You've been running on empty for days now."

"Well, thank you," he offered sincerely, blushing slightly, "for allowing me to rest and for the blanket and pillow, it was unnecessary."

"How many things have you done for me that were unnecessary?" she asked, her eyes never straying from her book. "Besides which, it was nothing."

"It's not nothing," he countered, looking at her intently, "thank you for taking care of me," he said sincerely. "You seem to be making a curious habit of it," he smirked.

"Well then, I suppose I'm taking after you," she quipped, smiling at him at she reached for another book.

His heart seized at the way she looked at him, so warm and happy to be in his company, something he was so unaccustomed to experiencing.

"You look tired," he noted with some worry creeping into his usually smooth voice, "did you manage any sleep at all?"

"No," she shook her head, the darkened circles beneath her eyes telling him as such. "I couldn't, my mind wouldn't shut off."

"Did you find anything?" he asked, motioning to the tall stack of books to her right and the long list of carefully-written notes before her.

She pursed her lips slightly, the smile fading fast at the mention of her research and she shook her head sadly.

"Nothing of note. Even if every text here were organized and in useable condition, I doubt we could find the information we need," she admitted, scanning the decimated library with an equal mixture of sadness and frustration.

"Very well," he conceded, standing from his seat and scanning his own notes with a critical eye. "We'll research more later," he announced. "For now, although we have little concrete information, we should inform Minerva of our visit with Firenze. She'll no doubt be dismissive, but she deserves to know where we stand."

Hermione gave a single nod as she stood and folded her notes. As they began stacking their books, a loud bang came from the front of the library, as the heavy doors flew open and cracked against the wall, pounding footsteps quickly following.

"Severus!? Hermione?! Are you in here!?" Sirius yelled as he burst into the cavernous room, out of breath and drenched in sweat.

"We're back here!" yelled Severus, looking alarmed as the pure-blood appeared before them, his face painted with a panicked expression.

"Oh, thank Merlin I found you two, come quick! It's Minerva! She fainted at breakfast," Sirius blurted out.

Hermione's stomach immediately dropped at his words, a sickening thud of worry working its way through her body.

"But…how? What exactly happened?" Hermione asked, trying to get Sirius to slow down but he seemed far too distraught to do so.

"I-I don't know," he uttered, "they're headed to the infirmary now, we need to go!" Sirius barked as he turned back for the door, not even breaking his run to wait for them.

Sharing wide-eyed worry for but a second, Severus and Hermione rushed out into the corridor to catch up with Sirius, their collective feet carrying them once more towards injury as a silent yet steady thrum of unease settle into their hearts.

 _~~~0000~~~_

"Poppy, what's happened!?" Hermione shouted as the breathless group pushed through the heavy infirmary doors a few hurried minutes later.

They were met by the sight of both Neville and Draco, sweaty and breathing hard, having just arrived themselves, as they both helped carry a rather irate-looking Minerva, towards the nearest bed. Remus and Harry were just behind them, speaking softly to one another, both sharing a look of distress.

"Put me down this instant, do you hear me?!" Minerva barked as Neville and Draco, flanked on either side of the headmistress, gently set her down atop an empty bed.

"I told you I could walk!" Minerva snapped at the young men, who both looked on sheepishly. But for all her ire, it was a rather unconvincing performance, for her face was covered in sweat and her chest heaving from exertion although she hadn't walked an inch.

"Pomfrey told us to, besides...we were just trying to help, ma'am," Draco countered, looking both annoyed and concerned as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

"She's overreacting, as usual," scowled Minerva, trying to sound commanding but her voice caught as a terrible coughing fit shook her fragile frame.

"Like hell I am!" Poppy snapped, as she appeared from her office and bustled to her lover's bedside, with vials and potions in-hand, a frantic look on her tired face.

Glaring angrily at her lover, Poppy began assessing Minerva, her wand gliding across her weakened body, her frown growing tighter the longer she worked.

"Is someone going to tell us what happened?" Hermione frantically whispered, as Draco and Neville joined Sirius, Remus, Severus, Harry and herself off to the side.

"She fainted at breakfast," Harry softly replied, eyeing the headmistress sadly.

"She was out cold for a few minutes, when she finally did come around she couldn't even stand she was so weak. So we carried her here," Neville added as he nodded at Draco.

"Although she did mange to put up quite the fight," whispered Draco who rubbed at a bright red scratch mark that ran down the length of his long, pale neck.

"I can hear you!" snapped Minerva from across the room. "And I didn't faint! I was just slightly dizzy," she insisted, her body shaking slightly.

"You passed out cold!" hissed Poppy, her mouth set in a tight line.

"It's the exhaustion. I just need a bit more strengthening potion," Minerva grumbled, looking pale and worn out.

"Don't you dare start on me with that exhaustion nonsense!" Poppy yelled, slamming her wand down upon the bedside table. "We both know that you've been quite ill and it's not getting any better…something is wrong!" wailed Poppy, her temper finally flaring as she glared at Minerva.

"You're overreacting…again!" yelled Minerva.

"I don't think she is, Minerva," Hermione gently replied, stepping forward.

"What do you mean?!" Minerva snapped, eyeing Hermione sharply, turning her anger upon her.

"Hermione and I visited Firenze last night in the forest," Severus interjected, hoping to draw the headmistress' wrath away from the young Gryffindor, "and he gave us several reasons to believe that what we are all experiencing isn't simple exhaustion, that some other force might be at work here, pulling from our own magic."

"What proof of this did he offer?" Minerva demanded, looking highly critical and aggrieved.

"For one, he and the other centaurs have noticed a magical pull from the area surrounding castle, so much so that they retreated far into the forest to preserve their own magical essence," Severus began.

"And he also gave a reading of the stars. From what he could decipher, it would seem that a powerful bond of some kind has been broken, he foretold of great destruction and chaos as a result of this. Give our current situation, we believe this is related to the school," Severus offered, at which Minerva audibly scoffed.

"Oh, a reading of the stars, why didn't you say so? You sound as barmy as Sybil now," Minerva retorted as Poppy began plying her with potions.

"From what he suggested," Severus pressed on, choosing to ignore her vitriol, "we believe this destruction he spoke of, the magical pull the Centaurs have experienced and our own weakness is somehow related to this broken bond."

Minerva narrowed her eyes in confusion and redolent irritation.

"What exactly are you suggesting?" she demanded, her voice clipped and accusatory.

"We believe this broken bond pertains to castle itself and has been siphoning our magical energy, thus weakening us all," Hermione added, trying her best to hold her ground against her formidable mentor.

"You're trying to tell me that the castle itself is somehow pulling from our magic?" Minerva asked in disbelief as the others stood in perfect silence around her bed, grappling with the worrisome development.

"In a manner of speaking….yes," Severus carefully answered, holding his gaze steady against her incredulous look.

"Honestly, Severus…you believe this nonsense? From you of all people," Minerva tutted disapprovingly.

"Everyone's health has been improving since being evaluated, the healing potion is working, we're making genuine headway around the castle. This is utter rubbish, what proof do you even have that a bond exists in the first place?" she angrily demanded.

"We've been researching all night and we don't have much information to support this notion of a seal or a bond just yet…but that doesn't mean it doesn't exist," piped up Hermione, standing right next to Severus.

"We just need a bit more time to research…we just need more information. I'm certain we will find it," Hermione tried but Minerva, stubborn as ever, angrily shook her head.

"You have no proof for this alleged bond and even if it does exist, no way of identifying such a thing and no evidence to suggest it could draw from of our magic. This is complete nonsense and a waste of time!" Minerva yelled.

"Why are you so sure we're wrong?" Severus challenged, eyeing her sharply.

At this, Minerva closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, trying to summon some much-needed strength and patience.

"I can't afford to waste time on this and go looking for trouble where none exists," she finally answered, looking completely exhausted by both her physical state and the current conversation. Her eyes suddenly filled with angry tears.

"The board is breathing down my neck, along with the Minister, the blood-thirsty press, and worried parents! All of them owling me day and night, demanding to know when the school will reopen. Add to that no substantive budget for renovations, an angry and exhausted faculty…I don't have time for this!" she wailed, the tears finally spilling down her cheeks and her head falling back against her pillow.

Sighing deeply, Poppy sat down beside her then, taking her hand in her own, the anger that had previously painted face now replaced with concern.

Severus looked around at the assembled group, all spent and unsure, frightened even, and he knew that panicking would do them no good.

"Then let's not waste time," countered Severus, looking firm and resolute.

"I know one source that could prove useful, and I, for one, am done waiting for answers," Severus announced as he turned from the anguished group and strode once more to stand beneath Albus' portrait above the floo.

Tapping his wand sharply against the wooden frame, he angrily called out, "Albus, you enter this portrait right this instant, you coward!"

The portrait of the plush wingback sat vacant and Severus glared at it but a moment before magically summoning a small ball of fire within his open palm.

"Severus! What are you doing?!" gasped Sirius, as the small group, equally perplexed, watched on in alarm.

Severus merely held the flame up to the corner of the portrait, the look on his face falling somewhere between determined and enraged.

"Albus, I'll burn every damn portrait in this castle, starting with yours, if you don't come and speak to us right fucking now!" Severus roared.

When Albus failed to immediately materialize, Severus merely narrowed his gaze and held the ball of dancing, magical flames close enough to the edge of the frame to catch fire, the corner of the canvas immediately curling and turning black.

"Uncle, you'll burn the whole place down!" Draco yelled, watching the spectacle wide-eyed with the rest of them but Severus merely stood before the portrait calmly and watched, knowing he wouldn't have to wait long.

A moment later, Albus rushed into the frame, taking care to first extinguish the growing flame at the bottom edge of the canvas by vigorously stamping out the flames with his silk slippers. The fire extinguished, Albus then seated himself in the leather wingback chair, smiling and adjusting his spectacles as he sat down, insouciant as ever.

"Ah, Severus," Albus intoned genially, "still have a flare for the dramatic, I see. Well, regardless of the circumstance, it's lovely as always to see you. To what do I owe this particular pleasure?"

Severus wordlessly vanished the flame in his palm and glared at his old friend.

"What do you know, Albus?" Severus pointedly asked, his arms crossed and his gaze unforgiving.

"Many things, my dear boy," Albus smiled, his eyes twinkling with mirth which only enraged Severus further.

"Albus, don't play games with me," Severus bit out, "we are all magically weakened, do you know anything that could be causing this?"

His genial smile faltered at this, and the twinkle momentarily faded as he looked down to adjust his regal blue robes rather than answer right away.

"I have a suspicion, but I am reticent to share it," he reluctantly admitted.

"If we're in danger, Albus, you need to tell us," Severus answered, his gaze piercing and resolute.

A heavy sigh escaped Albus' lips before shifting his gaze. "I fear that…the bond has been broken," he answered finally, his face taking on the rare appearance of seriousness.

Severus' head quickly turned and caught Hermione's shocked gaze across the room.

"Firenze offered us a reading the stars…he mentioned that a bond had been broken…those were his his exact words. So a bond does exist? What exactly is this bond?" Hermione asked, her voice betraying her growing sense of worry as she crossed the room to stand below the portrait.

"Yes, a bond does exist," nodded Albus, "and from my limited understanding, it's purpose is twofold. It first and foremost acts as a physical seal and protects the structure of the castle from harm and destruction. As you know, this building has stood for well over a thousand years and until recently has withstood that test of time with ease. It's secondary purpose is to act as a magical seal, so to speak, to contain and hold all the magic of the entire castle itself, much the same way a simple spell would, although on a much grander scale."

"And this is different from the wards that surround Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"Yes, quite different," Albus responded. "The wards are like any commonly used spell, created by whomever currently runs the school to protect against unwanted visitors and curious muggles. But the bond of which I speak, it is the original seal that was created when the school was built, or at least, soon thereafter."

"Who created this bond?" Remus asked.

"It was created by one or perhaps even all of the founders, we aren't entirely sure," Albus answered.

Hermione frowned at this. "Magic that old and powerful can't be self-sustaining."

"It isn't. The bond is sustained and contained within an object housed here at the castle," Albus replied.

"What object?" asked Severus, the whole room deathly quiet as they listened with rapt attention.

Albus paused, frowning.

"That, I do not know, neither does anyone else," Albus answered. "The object was never identified, it was considered safer to not know the specific item in case the information were to fall into the wrong hands."

"A single item to hold this castle together? It could be anything! How can none of you know!?" Draco demanded, looking every bit as enraged as his godfather.

"This is not a willful ignorance, Mr. Malfoy, the founders chose to purposefully keep this object a secret. Believe me, knowing exactly what this object was would've made all of our lives much easier, I can assure you," Albus replied, his tone sharpening ever so slightly.

"Forgive us our impertinence, but it's not as if this is your first foray into willfully hoodwinking people, now is it, Albus?" Severus asked, his voice dripping with the same undisguised contempt as his godson's.

Ignoring the barb, Albus continued on, "I have conferred with the other headmasters and while we can not be sure this bond is related to your declining health, it is something you should look into."

"Should this bond be compromised, what will happen to the castle? Will it actually draw from our own magic to try and sustain itself?" Hermione asked, her heart pounding in her chest.

"It's possible, yes," Albus conceded, "magical siphoning from the nearest source, in this case, the inhabitants of the castle is possible. I must confess, we know so precious little about this bond, the total ramifications of its damage could vary and we have no way of knowing. It may begin and end with mild magical siphoning or it may cause outright collapse of the castle, or somewhere in between. Not having much information on the bond itself, we really can't know for sure what damage it will cause," Albus answered.

"Why have we never heard of this before and why exactly do you know about it?" Sirius interjected, his arms crossed tight.

Albus paused a moment, his cool countenance giving way to unease.

"All the headmasters and mistresses have known of its existence," Albus finally replied.

"I was never told," Severus interjected, his voice laced with venom and black eyes hard as he turned his accusatory gaze to Albus.

"Nor I," piped up Minerva, her voice brittle and full of hurt as the gravity of the situation slowly dawned upon her.

"Why weren't we informed?" Severus demanded, his mouth shut tight as anger bloomed hot in his jet-black eyes, narrowly pointed at his old predecessor.

Albus sighed and nodded gravely, seemingly prepared for this particular accusation.

"I purposefully chose to keep this to myself," he began. "We were in the middle of a war and I did not want to burden either of you with this information," he said eyeing Severus and Minerva with concern. "Should the need have arisen, I would've informed you."

"As in right now?!" Severus shouted, the sound reverberating around the quiet room.

"I should've mentioned it earlier, I simply did not think it was pertinent," Albus replied, a look of misgiving and guilt lining his face.

"You calculating son of a bitch. I've always given you the benefit of the doubt and time and time again you've disappointed me!" Severus shouted, banging his fist upon the wooden mantle and looking into the fire-filled hearth with disgust.

"I'm telling you now," Albus softly replied.

"But why wait?!" Severus demand. "Why didn't you mention this sooner? Hermione could've died the other day! We could've taken precautions, people could've been warned! You should've told me before you died!"

"My dear boy, what good would it have done?" Albus asked calmly. "You protected the castle to the best of your ability during a terrifying time. What else could you have done? Would it have been a help to you to know that a single object, one that was a mystery to you, held the castle's safety? That small piece of vague information would've helped you somehow? Or would it have just added to your considerable stress this past year?"

"What if Tom had heard whispers of such an item? He would've no doubt tortured you until you revealed it. Is that how you would've liked to die?" Albus angrily demanded.

Severus looked away rather than answer, his fists balled at his side, his expression stark and cold.

"I was trying to spare you the weight of keeping yet one more secret," he offered more softly. "One that could've cost you your life."

"How touching," Severus acidly replied. "You actually caring about whether I lived or died….I guess there's a first time for everything."

Albus gave a heavy sigh at this.

"I don't expect you to forgive my secretiveness but never doubt my intentions, Severus. I kept it a secret to protect you," Albus finished, his eyes suddenly filled with tears, he pointedly looked away.

"I don't give a damn about your intentions! We're in danger, you old fool!" Severus spat as he turned away from the mantle and walked to the nearest window, eyeing the destroyed grounds below rather than face Albus and show just how truly disappointed he was.

Sensing the growing tide of tension, Remus stepped forward and said, "Pointing fingers will do us little good now. What's done is done, we can't go back, only move forward."

"We now know the bond exists," he continued when no one objected, "and given the information we have from Albus and Firenze, it could potentially be broken or damaged and thus causing our weakness. We need to find thing and if it's compromised, fixed it," he offered succinctly.

"He's right," added Minerva who now was siting up in bed and looking, if not well at least no longer on the verge of passing out. "We'll find a way to fix this."

"The castle is still standing and we're all still mostly functional, this leads me to believe the object was only damaged or compromised in some way, rather than destroyed outright," Hermione offered, fighting against her own panic with reason.

"That seems an astute observation," Albus replied trying to offer some help.

"But how are we going to find it? In a castle this size, it could be any damn thing," pointed out Sirius who looked not a small bit concerned.

"It will be old since it would've been created by the founders. Could it have been one of the horcruxes? The diadem, the sword or locket?" Hermione speculated.

"I do not believe so," replied Remus, beginning to pace before Albus' portrait, his mind turning over the myriad possibilities. "Those articles were too well known …something tells me it would an item that isn't as well known or commonly associated with the founders."

"So we need to find the item and somehow restore the magical seal? And then the building will stop drawing from our energy?" Draco asked, looking unsure.

"But….how do you suppose we accomplish this?" asked Poppy.

"We'll begin searching immediately," Minerva said, the shock and fragility lessening in her voice as she fought hard to regain her composure.

"All right, we'll spread out and look but how will we know when we've found it?" Neville asked.

"Well…and granted I'm only speculating here, but the object would no doubt produce a strong magical pull, no?" Hermione postulated, her mind spinning with possibilities.

"Similar to a horcrux, when you touch it or even be near it, you'll feel it and know. It will also be damaged in some way," replied Hermione, gaining a stronger sense of purpose and clarity the longer she thought about it.

"Alright, spread out and begin searching," Minerva commanded from her bed. "Any object with a substantial magical pull, make a note of it and report back. Should you feel weakened by the object, do not attempt to touch or transport the object."

"Won't it also be broken somehow?" asked Harry.

"Most likely yes, but the damage might not manifest itself physically. So even if an object looks intact, don't discount it, it could have internal, magical damage," Hermione pointed out.

Given a new purpose and pressing task, the small group began making for the door, eager to begin the hunt for the unknown object.

"Wait," called Minerva, before anyone could leave.

Standing up with help from Poppy and leaning heavily upon her cane, her eyes swept across the room a long beat before she spoke.

"I know I've been…reluctant to accept this, and for that I ask your forgiveness. It seems that you've all been correct," she conceded, looking both ashamed and contrite.

"I'm sorry I doubted you…you especially, Severus. I was foolish to turn a deaf ear to your valid concerns," she offered but Severus didn't even turn at her words.

Sighing, she continued on. "For the sake of everyone's safety, I must ask that we keep this new development to ourselves and not tell the rest of the faculty until the object has been found and any potential danger directly identified."

At this, Severus finally turned away from the window and glared at Minerva, his eyes wide with shock.

"Minerva, you must tell the staff now," Severus retorted, no longer bothering to mask his rage and disbelief.

"Not yet," she firmly stated. "You will all search and find this object. Once we've identified it and discerned whether or not it can be fixed, then I shall tell them…but not a moment before. I can't have them panicking and running off to the press with this."

Harry, Sirius, Neville, Remus and Draco all shared the same incredulous look but didn't dare challenge her. Severus, however, had no such qualms.

"But if this is all true and they find out after the fact that the castle has been siphoning their magical energy…Minerva, think of how betrayed they'll feel? They must be told, now," Severus tried to reason.

"Severus, just…please," Minerva practically begged, a hint of panic creeping into her voice and her eyes betraying the same fear. "Search today and try and find whatever you can. Will you do that for me? Just give me a day or two to figure out how I'm supposed to handle this. And I promise, I will tell them... when the time is right."

All eyes were on him, waiting to follow his lead. Watching their expectant gaze, Severus knew fighting would only make matters worse and the last thing they needed was more conflict, not with what they were all facing. He merely sighed and have a curt nod.

"As you wish, headmistress," Severus dutifully complied, but his face betrayed his disappointment as he turned and stared out the window once more.

Eyeing his rigid posture, his slight frown and the coldness that now tainted his dark eyes, Hermione knew Severus was grappling with something stronger than worry and concern. And so, she stepped forward and helped quickly dispatch pairs to different areas of the castle to begin their covert search.

As everyone quickly left and split up to cover as much ground as possible in the search for the illusive and mysterious object, Poppy assisted Minerva back to her quarters, the pair slowly hobbling away.

The infirmary was once more empty, save for Hermione and Severus, who still stood rooted beside the window sill, and Albus, who watched Severus with a quiet, mournful look.

"Severus," Albus called out when he finally stood from his seat, his presence clearly no longer wanted or needed, "I am sorry, you know. I never meant to hurt you."

Severus didn't even turn at the words, but merely stared out the window, straight ahead, as if he hadn't heard anything at all.

Albus sighed and gave a small, polite nod to Hermione and then walked out of the frame.

Severus sighed at this and bowed his head, letting his shoulders finally sag ever so slightly.

Alone once more with him, Hermione crossed the small space and came to stand beside him. She quietly waited, eyeing the same decimated grounds below that seemed to stretch on as far as the eye could see.

"It's quite horrible when the people we love the most disappoint us," she finally uttered, her voice soft and redolent with sadness.

"Yes…it certainly is," he quietly admitted.

After several long, quiet beats, Hermione sighed. "We should really get going. We've got a lot of ground to cover."

But Severus stood, seemingly unmovable.

"What if we can't find this object?" he finally asked, eyeing the deserted grounds below, his voice sounding so small, fragile even. "What if this truly is impossible?"

She didn't answer right away but rather silently slipped her hand into his, boldly holding on as tight and as close as she could manage until he finally peeled his sullen eyes from the courtyard below to meet her kind gaze.

"We will find this object, whatever it might be and we will fix this….you have done the impossible more times than I can count, why should this be any different?" she asked sincerely.

"What if I can't? What if I'm all out of magic tricks?" he replied, his heart and soul so very tired from putting up a fight.

"Who says you have to do it all? I'm here, we're all here. You're not alone, it's not like before. The fate of this school does not rest solely upon you," she noted, squeezing his hand tight.

"Funny how it feels that way," he noted, his shoulders sagging even more with the heavy weight of impossible responsibilities resting atop his weary frame.

"Nothing is broken that can not be made right. Trust me, we will find a way…together we will," she adamantly declared.

Her faith and trust in him, her belief that they could somehow solve this, was positively breathtaking.

He wasn't entirely sure what part of him believed her words, but some part of him must have because before he could register an objection he found himself offering a reluctant nod as he straightened up and together, they made for the door.

As they left the infirmary, he still clutched her hand. Drawing a deep breath, he squeezed it tight, not daring to let it slip away this time and together, the pair set off toward the eastern wing, her trust and belief in him giving him the strength and courage he so desperately needed to carry on.

 _~~~0000~~~_

The long day had proven exhausting and fruitless as Severus sat down heavily in his desk chair in his private study with a weary sigh.

Although the small group had spent hours scouring countless rooms throughout the castle, not a single object was uncovered that seemed to possess an inordinate amount of magical energy. Countless broken objects, to be certain, but not the one they needed.

After a quick and mostly quiet dinner, everyone disbanded for the evening, with Harry heading back to the Burrow, Draco and Neville quietly discussing the day's events with Luna, and Remus and Sirius leaving earlier than usual for Grimmauld Place, the pair unusually withdrawn, even cold to one another, as they left via the old floo.

Minerva and Poppy had abstained from dinner in the kitchen which only seemed to add to the heavy cloud of worry that hung among those searching for the mysterious object and an acute, if unspoken suspicion, among the rest of the faculty as to the true nature of why Minerva had fainted. Tensions were running higher than usual which only added to Severus' tremendous sense of duty and responsibility.

Eyeing the hefty stack of books that now sat atop his desk, that had been delivered by Winky earlier in the evening, Severus silently wondered how in hell they were ever going to find a solution to this seemingly insurmountable problem.

Hermione was seated across from him on his worn leather couch as each dove head-long into more obscure texts from the library, each quiet and focused and desperately looking for a clue to help them.

His nose buried in a book for several hours, it was well past midnight when the peculiar sensation of perfect silence caught his attention. He glanced over at his couch to see his young friend had fallen asleep. A book on advanced magical infrastructure creation draped across her small lap. Her head resting against the seatback, her chest gently rising and falling with each relaxed breath.

He gazed at her for Merlin only knows how long, staring openly at her, as he was wont to do as of late.

Her pouted lips. Her lovely, pale skin, sprinkled liberally with freckles. Her wild, untamable hair.

He stood quietly from his chair and walked toward her. He carefully seated himself atop his coffee table so he might be closer to her without disturbing her.

Watching her finally rest, finally stop moving and worrying and being so damn strong for every single person around her, he felt the sharp ache of worry in the pit of his stomach dull slightly.

And that's when it hit him, hard as a smack to the mouth, as hard and as harsh as truth can possibly be.

Despite all the worry and uncertainty, beneath the crushing sense of duty and responsibilities, he felt the most peculiar serenity.

He couldn't be sure, due to the fact he had so rarely experienced it, but he could've sworn he actually felt…. _love_.

Genuine, steadfast, unwavering love. And he immediately knew that this woman asleep before him was both the source and recipient of this unusual feeling.

She made him feel this strange joy, this weightlessness, this strength of heart.

 _Her_ …of all people.

The insufferable, know-it-all, princess of Gryffindor. She was the piece that had been missing from his life, the one person who could accept him and welcome him, just as he was, without pretense or self-interest.

Right here and right now, he felt that joy and peace. Had felt it for weeks, in fact, had he been paying any attention. He felt content to brew beside her, at peace to read with her, happy to watch her sleep now. This is what was different, this lightness that had emerged deep within him, she was the source of this peculiarity as sure as the sun caused the flowers to grow and bloom.

Lily's words rung again in his mind and he nearly gasped from the shock of it.

 _Happiness awaits you but you must choose it when it comes._

Noting the late hour, he acted out of instincts and this one was telling him, urging him, screaming at him, with every ounce of his soul, to take care of her, in any and every way he knew how. Somehow he knew that this true, young, beautiful soul was the key to the part of him that had been locked away for so long. But now the question was, could be brave enough and wise enough to not let her slip away? Could he chose this happiness even though he didn't truly deserve it?

 _Let her in,_ he thought _…she's already found a way._

He sighed deeply, knowing that his own inner self was right, as usual, and thus there was no point in arguing any longer against his own heart.

He reached forward then and pulled the heavy book from her lap and set it aside. He then stood and reached down to gently tuck his arms beneath her legs and snaking around her waist as he gingerly picked her up, cradling her sleeping form tight and protectively against his strong chest.

She felt the sudden movement and the act caused her to awaken ever so slightly to find herself being carried.

"What's happening? What are you doing?" she quietly murmured against his chest, her eyes still closed.

"Putting you to bed," he uttered softly against her hair.

"No…I must work," she muttered.

"No, you must sleep," he gently countered.

"I can sleep on…on the couch," she sleepily replied.

"No need. I have bed," he replied as he carried her down the narrow hallway that lead to his bedroom.

"No, no," she meekly protested, "you need your bed, I'll go," she offered as she fought to open her eyes, the sleep there so impossibly thick.

He merely smiled as she gave up just as quickly as she began and finally settled against him, her arms snaking around his neck as a deep contented sigh passed her beautiful, full lips.

She felt perfect in his arms, as if it were the only place in the whole world she belonged.

He entered his room and in several strides, reached the bed. He gently lowered her onto the mattress, a small frown passing her lips as he removed his arms from underneath her.

As she closed her eyes once more, he gently untied her red, worn sneakers and pulled each from her tired feet, setting them on the floor.

"Here, all settled," he whispered as she snuggled against the black satin pillow, his pillow. She breathed in his scent, ink and herbs, lemon and juniper and felt a wave of serenity wash over her, his lovely scent pulling her further into the comforting depths of sleep.

He shut off the small lamp atop his bedside table and turned around to see her, smiling at the way she snuggled deeper into his bed, looking quite at home.

He reached down and carefully pulled the emerald green duvet up to cover her.

As his hands tucked the blanket around her, her hand slowly reached forward and clasped his.

She opened her eyes slowly then and he knelt beside her. Holding his hand, she eyed him a long moment before speaking.

"Where will you sleep?" she asked, her eyes shining a burnt amber as the flames from the hearth danced within them.

"The couch…of course," he replied, blushing at her concern.

Her face crinkled then, worry passing across her tired, beautiful eyes.

His face only a few inches from hers, she was silent a long moment, watching him, holding his hand so tenderly. All the coldness, the fear she had grown so accustomed to pressed upon her in that moment, urging her to find a way, a way to her own happiness. As this incredible man knelt before her, wanting nothing more than to please her, she realized that all she wanted was his warm hand to stay nestled against hers, to push all the worry away. All she wanted was him. If only she could be brave enough to tell him.

"Is everything alright? Do you need something?" he softly asked.

"Yes," she breathed, drinking in his stunning eyes. "I need you. Stay with me...please," she whispered.

Her words stunned him although he tried his best not to show it. He swallowed hard at the look she gave him, one full of longing and genuine need. A look that no one had ever once given him.

He knew he shouldn't, it was wrong and inappropriate in a thousand different ways. But he couldn't find it in himself to refuse her. And truthfully he didn't even want to.

He gave a simple nod as he reluctantly released her hand and straightened up. He walked to the hearth and magically lowered the fire to a gentle crackle, darkening the room save for a soft orange glow. He then walked to the other side of the bed and carefully kicked off his boots, his heart thundering in his ears at the thought of laying next to her.

She was silent and watching his every movement. He could feel her eyes upon him.

Drawing a deep breath, he summoned his courage and turned to face her, she offered a warm smile in return.

The sight of her, smiling happily from beneath his covers left him dizzy with desire.

But instead of claiming her lips, as he so desperately wanted to, he pulled his wand from his shirtsleeve, and settled it upon the nightstand and wordlessly sat down on the bed. His heart pounding like a drum, he gently laid down atop the thick emerald green comforter, flat on his back, all the way on the very edge of his bed so as to leave her plenty of room.

The sight brought a smile to her lips.

She scooted across the narrow bed, edging closer towards him until she was finally right next to him, her warm body right against his, separated only by the covers. She then gently rested her hand atop his, her fingers threading through his like two halves to a whole.

"Goodnight Severus," she sleepily murmured as her eyes slowly shut, her head resting against his shoulder, drinking in the sight of him and feeling safe despite all the worry and fear.

It was only after several minutes had passed, and her breathing became deep and even, that he could finally find his voice and answer, "Good night, Hermione."

He let out a breath, one he had seemingly been holding since forever and felt an odd mixture of pure elation coupled with the most potent fear he had ever experienced. The urge to run from her pounded through his veins with every heartbeat.

 _Run, run, run._

But one glance at her, the way her head tucked against his shoulder, the way her small hand clutched his so tenderly, and he suddenly found it much easier to fight the fear back and banish his potent self-doubt for once in his life.

Listening to her steady, rhythmic breathing, he soon felt his own body and mind relax as peace finally took hold. The last thing he did before slipping into an effortless sleep, was to place a gentle kiss atop her head of unruly curls, relishing how perfect her warm body felt nestled against his. Closing his eyes, with her gentle scent surrounding him, he knew that this was what being home must have felt like. It was a feeling he never thought he deserved to experience but now that he had discovered it, he knew he would never want to let it go.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Welcome back, lovely readers! Sorry for the crazy-long delay. Thank you all for the support and encouragement during the unexpected hiatus, your reviews have been a joy to read. Massive hugs to _Marcella_ _Dix_ , _DutchGirl_ , _Fas IkbenVanEyck_ , and _Crystal Violet_ for keeping me motivated with lovely notes. Love you, ladies! **

**Quick recap: When last we left off, Hermione, Severus and a few others were told by Dumbledore that the castle's magical wards are held in place by a single object that protects the castle itself and harnesses and sustains the castle's magic. This object is a mystery they must uncover before it threatens to compromise the magical energy of those residing in the castle. Although a search has begun, the object has not been found. After a long day of looking, Hermione fell asleep while researching with Severus in his quarters. He carried her to his bed, where she asked him to stay with her. He agreed and they fell asleep together, holding hands. We now rejoin them the following morning.**

* * *

 _You have a place in my heart no one else ever could have._

 _\- F. Scott Fitzgerald_

This bed. This small room, prone to water beetles, cold and dank even in the dead of summer, depressing and dark even against the strongest Lumos, had never once been a joy to awaken in.

Severus could recall the first morning he awoke in this room, twenty years back, as he traversed the painful and heartbreaking metamorphosis from student to criminal to spy, and finally, laughably, to teacher. Lily had been buried less than a fortnight when Dumbledore had officially hired him to replace Slughorn and installed him in what would become his gloomy quarters, the only space he could count as his own.

That first morning he had awoken here had been nearly unbearable. How he listlessly stared at the ceiling, horrible, wretched guilt and sorrow crushing his slight frame into the thin, hard mattress. The mere thought of dragging himself upright and out of bed to go and teach children only a few years his junior made his acute sorrow all the more sharp. How he longed for a quick death that sunrise, and for so many mornings after it.

This stiff bed, this bleak, mournful room, was his prison cell and he had always viewed it as such. A sanctuary of sorts from annoying colleagues and demanding students, but it never once felt like a comfort, merely a space to sit and gather his strength to go out and face the world again and its many cruelties.

A shelter, no more, no less. The bare minimum.

And he never desired it to be anything else, for this was all he deserved. He merely hoped to survive long enough to avenge Lily's death, and this room helped afford him that chance. The notion that he might one day awaken in these cramped, dark quarters and feel happiness was about as preposterous a notion as he could fathom. Men like him didn't hope for happiness, but merely hoped to see another day to fight.

And yet, as the sun broke fresh and new, spreading light to the verdant valley around the castle, Severus began to emerge from the deep, thick fog of sleep, and this bed and this room suddenly felt undeniably different and so, he found, did he.

Eyes still closed, he drew a deep breath and pondered from afar all the different sensations greeting him this morning making him feel so strange, so very peculiar.

A soothing warmth surrounded him, as if he had awoken in a long, lost paradise rather than a cold dungeon. Something feathery tickled his chin, he caught a hint of a sweet note of fall clinging to his clothes and a comforting weight nestled atop him, putting him at ease. Normally, such oddities would immediately cause him to panic and awake with alarm, but not today. Something about this made him feel safe and so he lay still, the valley between awake and asleep stretching on before him like a deep ocean, himself merely a swimmer, floating peacefully on its gentle waves.

Luxuriating in this strange comfort for several beats, he suddenly thought he must have died in his sleep, slipping away with a whimper. Perhaps this wasn't his bedroom at all but heaven, for it felt far too good to be real.

As he made the long, slow swim back to shore, his feet finally touching the firm ground of consciousness, his eyes finally fluttered opened and he realized that he was not only alive but he also discovered the rather lovely and thoroughly surprising reason for his new sense of well-being and serenity.

Hermione was no longer asleep beside him. At some point during the restful night, she had somehow moved from simply lying next to him to a far more intimate position. She was now draped across his body, completely limp and relaxed as their limbs tangled as one. Her head resting on his shoulder, her feathery curls tickling his chin, her arms wrapped tight around him, his arms wrapped equally tight around her, her long legs tangled between his own, lying chest to chest.

Awaking to such an intimate and luscious sight would normally put a man at ease, but Severus was no ordinary man and the sight nearly caused his heart to stop all together.

No woman had ever slept in his bed, let alone willingly wrapped her perfect body around his, her soft, tempting curves molding to his sparse frame. The shock of it all quickly helped to banish any remnants of sleep and he laid perfectly still and very awake, simply watching her, holding her, trying to wrap his brain around this new reality. But seeing her did little to dispel his disbelief at having awoken in such a shocking, and downright delightful, position.

For how could he, _he of all people_ , a louse, a criminal, a downright bastard, greet this with anything but disbelief?

Hermione Granger was asleep in his arms. This sublime, brilliant, gracious, exquisite woman had put her trust in him, for reasons that defied his comprehension and now laid atop him, seemingly content in her choice.

As the dwindling fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting their bed in a soft glow, she stretched slightly in her sleep, her slender arms, which had already ensnared him, clutched at him all the more tightly. She nestled her head against his chest and let out a deep, contented sigh. With his heart and breath matching her own in perfect harmony, he too, let out a deep sigh, one that seemed to bubble up from his very soul and with it went everything.

All of the doubt, the worry, the pain, the terrible weight and emptiness that had defined him for so long, it suddenly felt so foreign and unfathomable, as if it had plagued a different man all together.

And just like that, this bed, this room, suddenly felt as if it held all the light and warmth he could possibly imagine.

Time itself seemed to change then and slow to a mere trickle, as his eyes settled upon her, without fear or worry. For once, time seemed to be on his side and graciously stopped all together for the man who was unaccustomed to receiving many favors. He drank in her sleeping form, splendid and utterly perfect. The rosy hue coloring her pale cheeks, the buttery-lemon strands that suddenly shone so proud in her chestnut hair, the incredible beauty of the curve of her lips as she slept so peacefully.

He closed his eyes a moment to find his equilibrium and try to quiet his heart but the beats kept coming, fast and frantic and joyful and unstoppable.

He felt alive, not merely existing or subsisting as he had these many painful years but truly living, as all men are meant to. His heart beating so stubbornly and powerfully for another. Alive in a way he hadn't felt in many years, perhaps ever.

He felt at peace and he felt that peace stretch out and fill the room, like a wave crashing against the shore and spreading every which way until it filled everything, even himself, with joy and hope.

It was the purest, most perfect moment he had ever known.

A more fortunate man might not have relished this or appreciated it, but Severus was a man who knew want and loss all too well to not worship this moment, even if it wouldn't last. The feeling of her beautiful body atop his, her long legs clinging to his, being held by her, he may not have died in his sleep but he knew without reservation that this was indeed heaven.

Never, in twenty long, lonely years, had he ever awoken in this bed to this kind of bliss. And in a some impossible way, that made perfect sense to him. It felt right and good to share this only with her. As if every moment had been leading him by the hand to be right here and feel his heart finally beat. He wasn't meant to arrive here whole and perfect. He was meant to feel her and finally, at last, by her touch alone, know happiness.

All the pain he had quietly suffered, sacrifices made, the loss and loneliness, it had all prepared him to taste the sweetness of this, to truly know the unbridled, incomparable perfection of a good woman lying in your arms.

He laid perfectly still for a long time, listening to her breathe, completely content to have nothing else in the whole world to do but hold her and be held. But before long, she began to stir from her sleep and his new-found peace fled, his eyes going wide with panic at having to actually face her.

Unaccustomed to finding himself in such a precarious position as being entangled with a former student sleeping happily atop him in his bed, he did the only thing he could. He shut his eyes quick as a flash and pretended to be asleep.

It was beyond moronic but he saw no other option; playing possum would just have to do. He couldn't imagine how he could explain the position they found themselves in let alone just how much he was enjoying it. She may have consented to sharing a bed but she certainly hadn't given permission to be held or caressed. She would no doubt feel embarrassed, maybe even repulsed, about waking up in his arms and he wanted to give her the easiest way out possible. With him still asleep, she could slip away and spare them the awkwardness. It was best for them both, really.

Feigning a relaxed position, his heart pounded in his chest as he felt her slowly lift her head. He could not see, but he could feel her. She lifted her head a long moment, seemingly taking in her unusual surroundings. And then a pause. A pause so long that he thought his heart might implode in his chest from the nerves of it.

He waited for her to pull away and carefully relaxed his hold on her so as to make her departure easy. But still she didn't move.

Lying there, heartbeat after painful, frantic heartbeat, he wondered what in the bloody hell was she waiting for? A handwritten invitation to flee not only his bed, but also his quarters? The castle? Scotland? The northern hemisphere?

Just when he thought his eyes might snap open from the torturous, never ending wait, that's when he felt it. Not her slipping away but rather her gentle finger tips touching his face, his forehead to be exact. Carefully touching him as though he were delicate and might break, as if he were worth such consideration. Smooth, delicate fingers sweeping across his brow with the lightest of touches as he felt her slowly smooth away the hair from his forehead. Her soft finger tips then traced the side of his face, lingering against his cool cheek before finally tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear.

He had always loathed his hair. Stringy and greasy, just like his father's. But the way she touched it, how tenderly she caressed it, made him suddenly hate it, just a tiny bit, less. After all, if it was worthy of her touch, perhaps it wasn't all bad.

Her fingers grew warmer as they traced a line down his jaw, her thumb finally stopping right beside his lips as she placed her warm palm right against his cheek, cupping his face.

Lying there, blind and clueless as to her next move, he wanted to open his eyes at the shock of her gentle touch but he fought the urge and just remained still and silent, letting her do whatever she so wished to him because anything she did felt too damn divine to refuse.

An eternity seemed to pass, her hand cupping his face so tenderly before finally her hand moved and she once more snaked her arms around his waist, even tighter than before as she gently laid her head atop his heart and gave a small sigh.

When her curls tickled his chin once more, he knew it was safe to open his eyes.

She hadn't pulled away, quite the opposite, actually. She really was here and so was he. Together. Each willingly, so very willingly, lying in each other's arms, almost as one.

This realization nearly knocked him out cold. He was properly stunned but even in his disbelief, he knew he was safe and that he could stop pretending, any and all masks could be laid to rest.

He let his ruse fall to the wayside as he reached up and gently stroked her arm, a small sigh escaping his lips as he basked in the limitless joy of holding a woman who not only wanted to hold him but also, clearly, relished his touch. Her head nuzzled against him ever so slightly, he could feel her smile into his chest.

"Good morning, Severus," she said softly. He couldn't ever remember someone saying his name with such tenderness.

"Good morning," he murmured, "we seem to be making a habit of waking up together."

"Sorry to steal your bed and hold you captive," she uttered, her head still resting atop his heart. "I didn't mean to force you into staying," she apologized, making to pull away but he only held on tighter and she, not ever wishing to leave, let him.

"You did no such thing. I was… _happy_ to stay," he quietly admitted, his hand rubbing small, comforting circles on her back.

"I just…I didn't want to be alone. I'm sorry…that must make me sound so foolish," she blushed.

He could only smile in response, reaching up to stroke her hair, the silky strands feeling impossibly beautiful to caress.

"Of all the words that come to mind when I think of you, 'foolish' isn't one of them," he replied.

"You think of me?" she asked, lifting her head to finally look him in the eye, her face betraying not a small bit of surprise.

His breath seized at this but he somehow managed to slowly nod with his hand still splayed across her back.

"More than I should," he quietly admitted, his eyes slowly dancing across her face.

"And…what is it you…you think of me?" she asked, a slight quaver in her voice, her eyes wide with uncertainty.

He gave a small sigh, her eyes entrancing him, beckoning him to finally drop his guard.

"So many things, it's hard to know where to begin," he paused a moment, trying to summon the words to express just how much fire and life she seemed to possess, how easily it shone in every single thing she did.

"I believe you to be frighteningly brilliant," he began, watching with delight at how this simple fact made her smile. "You were one of the only students I've ever had whom I actually took pleasure in teaching, your thirst and respect for knowledge was truly… _humbling_. I may not have outwardly shown it, but you were a joy to teach."

She blushed at his praise and rested her head upon his chest, her eyes lit with unspoken happiness.

"However, I must say you are not without negative qualities," he gently teased, his rich, deep voice suddenly feeling more intimate rather than commanding. "Like most Gryffindors you have the unfortunate inclination to be foolishly fearless. But that reckless temerity to dive headlong into certain peril is generally used in the service of others, so I can hardly fault you for being selfless," he said with a small smirk, which caused her to chuckle, her head bowing slightly as she bit her bottom lip.

Delighting in her lovely laugh and emboldened to hear more, he continued on, his voice dropping.

"You're also exceptionally kind…kind to the deserving and those, like myself, who are less so. You're generous, with your knowledge and time, your patience and friendship."

He paused, watching the fire dance in her amber-colored eyes and her smile, so welcome and sincere, spurring him to speak his mind.

"You're also beautiful," he boldly admitted, "stunningly so."

"Severus," she whispered, her smile fading slightly as her heart thundered beneath her breast, pounding so hard against his own heart that he could hardly tell one from another.

"Not that my opinion matters at all," he continued on, his voice softer, gentle even, "I just happen to think that…you're…quite perfect."

"Me?" she quietly quipped, trying to play it off. "The insufferable know-it-all?"

He reached up then to take hold of her chin, the soft caress of his fingers tilting her head up, their eyes locked.

"Yes, you," he quietly declared, as if evidence of her perfection were a universally recognized fact. "You were always perfect, I just never had the courage to tell you," he said adamantly, his hand slipping from her chin to gently cup her cheek, his fingers grazing her silken curls at the nape of her neck.

"Thank you," she whispered, her brown eyes holding his, all of her efforts to pretend that this was some simple conversation abandoned.

Her molten eyes locked onto his and the raw, intensity of her gaze felt like a wave of fire crashing over his body, his skin tingling and his heartbeat pounding through his ears.

Her lips were a divine bow, a cherry-red that beckoned him to taste and find out just how sweet they truly were. Her shirt, lifted in the back just so, allowed his fingers to graze her hot, soft skin. Her leg draped across his, her denim-clad knee pressing into his inner thigh. It was all too much, he couldn't look away and pretend any more that she wasn't everything he had always wanted.

 _Choose that happiness when it comes._

There they were, the six little words that kept coming back to him. Taunting him, holding him accountable, never letting him rest. Hermione was his happiness and a small part of him had known it from the moment she had saved his life, maybe even longer than that.

A smarter man would've chosen her long ago and he couldn't in his right mind continue to ignore the only person who had ever brought him real happiness.

Looking into her eyes and seeing only trust and devotion, that was the moment he jumped without nary a thought about the consequences and chased his own happiness, for once.

Never taking his eyes from hers, he gently pulled her forward, his whole body and soul wanting to touch and taste her more than anything he had ever desired.

She closed her eyes, leaning in with all her heart and as his lips were about to touch hers, the dwindling hearth flames roared to life and the most unwelcome of visitors made their presence known.

"Severus!" barked Minerva from the hearth, her shrill voice filling the bedroom and causing the pair to immediately jump apart, each quickly extricating themselves from their embrace in a vain attempt to maintain some kind of propriety.

Breathing fast, their eyes quickly darted around the room, looking for the headmistress. A glance to the hearth revealed blue flames, meaning that Minerva was only floo-calling and thus couldn't see them.

"Severus, damnit! Are you there?!" Minerva snapped once more, already in a seemingly foul mood despite the early hour.

"Yes, Minerva," he finally uttered, sitting up in bed, trying to catch his breath.

"Are you just now getting up?" came Minerva's sharp reply. "It's already half-past five."

"No, I've been up. Just stepping out of the shower now," he finally answered, trying to shake the passion from his voice and recover his usual crisp aplomb, but he failed miserably and Minerva took notice.

"Severus, are you alright? You sound strange," she noted with some concern.

"Yes, I'm fine, just fine. Do you need something?" he asked rather sharply, desperately hoping the old woman would kindly bugger off and leave him to the heavenly lips that awaited him.

"Yes, forgive my early call," she offered a bit more tactfully, "but we can't seem to find Hermione. I tried floocalling her rooms late last night and again just now but she didn't answer. I'm worried she, too, may have fallen ill."

Hermione's eyes went wide at this and Severus found himself momentarily stumped. It was a situation he was finding himself in more and more as of late.

"I'm sure she's fine, probably just sound asleep," he bluffed, hoping it was enough to placate the headmistress.

"Perhaps, but still, I'm worried. I'm going to floo there now and check on her," Minerva offered.

"No, don't! I'll go!" he yelled.

"Nonsense," chastised Minerva. "I'm up and dressed, I'll go now and call you again should she not be there."

As the dancing, blue flames began to dwindle, signaling that Minerva was closing the call, Hermione sat up and shouted, "Minerva, wait! I'm here and I'm fine."

"Oh….dearest, you're… _you're with Severus_?" came Minerva's clearly stunned reply.

"Um…yes, ma'am..I am," Hermione admitted, blushing as she eyed Severus with a small smile.

"In his bedroom? At this hour?" came Minerva's bemused reply.

"Yes, um, I, uh…I joined him early to keep researching," Hermione replied, earning her a quirked eyebrow from Severus, only causing her to blush even more fiercely than she already was.

Heavy silence filled the air a long moment, the pair staring at the fire, unsure of just how much wrath they were about to incur.

"Oh yes, of course!" Minerva finally uttered, the surprise quite clear in her voice. "Well…I didn't mean to interrupt your _research,"_ she emphasized _. "_ We can speak in my office in a bit, dear," she replied, her voice nearly giddy. As the floo connection closed, Minerva could be heard calling out, "Poppy! You'll never believe it-"

At this, Hermione reclined once more and bowed her head against Severus' chest, softly laughing. Severus couldn't help but smile too, although begrudgingly so.

"Researching? At five in the morning? Very smooth," he deadpanned.

"Forgive me," she sighed, "I just didn't want her traipsing about the castle and worrying about me when I was perfectly fine. Merlin knows I've given her enough to worry about over the years."

He smiled ruefully as his arms wrapping around her once more, tucking one of her silky curls her behind her ear, "You always were a terrible liar."

"I am not!" she huffed, gently smacking his chest and looking mildly offended, although not really. "I'll have you know I'm an excellent liar when such a skill is needed."

"Oh really," he smirked, "so it wasn't you who set my robes on fire your first year?" he countered, his voice deepening and his eyebrow quirking in defiance, causing her stomach to tighten in a delicious pleasure.

"I…um…well," she stammered, only causing his smirk to widen.

"Hmmm, yes, excellent liar indeed."

"Alright, fine it was me, obviously. But in my defense, I thought you were hurting Harry."

"But I was protecting him," he countered, his lips twisting with barely contained mirth.

"Yes, I know that now. Give me a break, would you? I was only twelve," she smiled.

"I'll let it pass, so long as you think me honorable and worthy now," he teased, his dark eyes shining by the light of the fire.

"I do," she smiled, her fingers gently rubbing the buttons on his shirt, "you know I do."

He wanted to kiss her. Her lips, her fingertips, bury his face in her hair and hold her, never letting her go. But the moment had passed. He internally cursed Minerva and her supremely piss poor timing.

"We should really get going," he finally said, although letting her leave this room and take all the light with her was the very last thing he wanted.

"You're right," Hermione said with a heavy sigh, the weight of reality settling atop them once more. "Lots more to get done today. Wards to fix, mysterious objects to be found, castle to save," she quipped as she reluctantly pulled away and slid out from the black satin sheets, grabbing her wand and bending down to put on her trainers.

"Yes, and I'd like to head Minerva off at the pass before she has a chance to flap her gums to the whole faculty about your unfortunate whereabouts this morning," he scowled slightly as he, too, got out of bed to start the day.

"Not so unfortunate by me," she answered, slipping on her shoes with a smile as he offered her a hand to stand and they walked as one into his living room, the warmth of her hand against his feeling so natural and right.

As they reached the chamber door, she pulled him to a stop, one hand holding his and the other placed across his chest, holding him still better than any spell ever could have.

She paused a moment, feeling the beat of his heart against her palm.

"Thank you," she whispered, reaching up to lay a gentle kiss upon his cheek, her lips lingering on his skin, "for letting me stay."

"My pleasure," he answered, struggling to find his voice as he bowed his head at her touch, trying to be as close to her as possible.

"I'll meet you at Minerva's office in fifteen," she said with a smile, "lots to do today."

He nodded, giving her hand one last squeeze before she reluctantly turned to leave and prepare for another day of searching and, hopefully, finding the elusive object.

But as she pulled the chamber door open to the darkened dungeon hallway and stood upon the threshold, the weight of what still lay ahead resting heavily upon them both, she stopped and turned back to look at him one last time.

"There's just something about being here…with you. It makes me feel… _safe_ and… _hopeful_. Like everything is going to be just fine. And I can't tell you how long it's been since I've felt that," she uttered, her eyes shining with gratitude.

She smiled then, almost to herself as she eyed the long, dark corridor before her. Standing tall, looking almost invincible, she left his room, her feet tapping out a loud, proud beat until she disappeared from the dungeons.

He stood there, leaning against his doorway a very long time before realizing he was smiling.

"That makes two of us," he murmured to himself as he turned and headed to dress for the day.

 _ **~~~000~~~**_

Freshly dressed and showered, Hermione quickly sprinted down the corridor toward Minerva's office a handful of minutes later, feeling buoyed, optimistic and ready to face the day. As she came to a halt at the stone griffin, she was met by Severus, heading from the opposite end of the hallway, also freshened up and walking quickly.

"Swizzle jellies," Severus intoned to the waiting griffin which caused Hermione to chuckle slightly as the steps began to swirl up from the stone floor.

"Something amusing?" he teased.

"I would've given all the gold in my Gringott's account to hear you say anything that silly while I was in school."

"Hmm, yes, you and all of Gryffindor, I'm sure," he smirked. "After you," he motioned and she proceeded ahead of him, following the stone griffin's ascent.

He noticed, not for the first time how she was dressed. Without the billowing effect of formal school robes to hide her very feminine form, Severus could see and appreciate just how lovely her body was. Petite and graceful, her full hips swaying with each step, and her backside. Dear Merlin, did she have to wear denim that fit her like a glove, or a thin t-shirt that revealed the perfect outline of her pert breasts and the pale blue bra she wore beneath?

For the second time in as many hours, Severus allowed himself to listen to his own wants and let his eyes linger upon her, his thoughts swirling with delicious images and his body approving wholeheartedly of the lovely view.

But as they ascended the winding stairs, muffled voices could be heard coming from the office above them and as they grew closer, the hushed tones grew louder, the unmistakable sound of shouting penetrating the thick, oaken door. Shaking the lusty thoughts forcefully away for now, he halted beside her at the top of the stairs to listen to the argument happening within the headmistress' office.

"Damnit, Pads! Why in the bloody hell are you so angry!?" came Remus' bellowing voice.

"I told you, I'm fine, Moony," came Sirius' acidic reply.

"You're clearly upset with me, you've been pissed since yesterday! What have I done?!"

"Nothing, now drop it," Sirius warned, his voice cold and sharp.

Remus let out a sigh, then a rueful laugh, "You're angry because I did something without asking you."

"Fuck you, Moony! It's about more than that!"

Remus sighed once more, "I wasn't trying to piss you off. I honestly thought it would've made you happy," he said in a beleaguered tone.

"Well, clearly you don't know me very well!" Sirius snapped.

The sound of smashing glass cut through the air. Hermione shared Severus' same worked look and the pair paused but a moment before throwing open the door and rushing into the room.

The large office was empty save for the two men. Remus was hunched over the mantle piece, turned away, broken glass lay at his feet in the hearth below. While Sirius stood before Minerva's desk, his face set in an angry, stony mask, his body heavy slightly.

"Are we interrupting?" Hermione asked carefully, Severus following her into the now silent room.

"No, love, not at all," Sirius said with a tight smile that did not reach his eyes. "Dropped a glass, is all."

Hermione turned her gaze to her old defense professor, "Are you alright, Remus?"

"Just fine," he replied, running a rough hand through his sand-colored hair, his voice tired and strained. "Glad you two could make it," he added, finally turning to greet them.

"It's only just six now, are we late?" Severus asked.

Remus nodded while Sirius just stared ahead in stony silence.

"Minerva and Poppy just left, so did Neville, Luna, Draco and Harry. They're all already spread out, looking for the object."

"We would've come sooner had we known we were meeting so early," Hermione offered apologetically.

"Don't sweat it, kitten. You two were obviously _busy_ ," Sirius chimed in, a thin, insincere smile twisting his mouth.

"Minerva wants us to spread out early and keep searching before the rest of the faculty begin working on repairs," Remus interjected with a slight smile, but anger still flushed his cheeks as Sirius wordlessly repaired the crystal goblet and it reformed, landing atop the desk as if it had always been there.

"Very well," said Severus, sharing a worried sideways glance with Hermione. "Where is everyone starting today?"

"Since our search yesterday of Gryffindor tower and the Slytherin quarters produced no new objects of interest, we're moving onto Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff," Remus explained, trying to regain his composure while Sirius stood off to the side, still silently fuming.

"We're also checking a few of the faculty quarters, surreptitiously, of course, on the off chance that this object is some antique furnishing or trinket. And we'll need to thoroughly search the Room of Requirement. It'll hopefully turn up something," Remus said, trying to project confidence.

"What about questioning the portraits of the founders?" Hermione interjected. "If they are the ones who created the seal then surely one of them must know something about the object."

"Minerva questioned all four late last night and couldn't find anything out," Remus replied.

"Nothing at all?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

Remus merely shook his head in resignation. "Minerva said they couldn't provide any information on the seal itself or the object used to maintain it."

"Quite the good job they did of keeping the damn thing a secret. They didn't even tell their own portraits," Severus noted with a scowl thrown to the seemingly sleeping portraits hanging aloft above the the desk.

"Well then, if they don't know anything, then we just keep searching. If we can hunt down seven horcruxes, surely we can find one more mystery item," Hermione said, trying to stay positive. "Where do you want Severus and I to start searching?" she asked.

"Well, Harry and Draco are off searching Minerva's old quarters in Gryffindor. Neville and Luna are in the Ravenclaw section, Sirius and I are to go and check Hufflepuff common room and Pomona's quarters. I guess that leaves you and Severus in the Room of Requirement, specifically the Room of Hidden Things. It's a large room, with extensive damage and countless items, do you think the two of you could handle it?" Remus asked.

"Of course we can," came Hermione's immediate reply, eyeing Severus with a slight smile.

Severus couldn't help the lightness that suffused his chest just then, though he worked hard to suppress an all-out smile.

"Excellent, we'll head there now. Should we find anything, we'll send a patronus," said Severus as he and Hermione turned to leave.

But before they could get far, Sirius suddenly said, "On second thought, how about you come with me, Hermione? I could use someone a bit stealthier to search Pomona's quarters and I'm afraid old Moony here never was any good at being inconspicuous," Sirius said a bit acidly, with a tight smile thrown at the werewolf who was looking more put out with each passing moment. "And I'm sure Remus wouldn't mind helping Severus for the day."

But Hermione looked unsure at the sudden switch, sharing a crestfallen look with Severus.

"Are you sure, Sirius?" she asked. "I could go with Severus now and then come help you later?" she tried offering.

"If you wouldn't mind, Hermione, it would probably be best to switch for today," Remus conceded a bit sadly, carefully avoiding even glancing in Sirius' direction.

"Great!" Sirius said with feigned cheer, "let's switch things up a bit, unless that's a problem for you, Severus?" Sirius asked.

"Not at all," Severus bit out sharply, his eyes narrowing slightly at the animagus. "Whatever Hermione would like is fine by me," he softened as he caught her eye.

"Very well," she replied, not wanting to admit just how much the very thought of leaving Severus' side suddenly felt like losing a limb.

Remus pulled Sirius aside and spoke once more, this time their voices hushed, while Severus relished his last few moments with Hermione.

"The Room of Requirement was engulfed in Fiendfyre during the final battle," Hermione softly uttered. "It will be an absolute disaster, so please…be careful," she gently pleaded staring up into his soot black eyes with worry.

"I will," he promised. "Promise me you'll be careful as well. Should we find this object there's no way of knowing what kind of damage it can cause. Besides which, Black seems a bit unhinged today, so be doubly careful," Severus said, eying the still-bickering pair with a good bit of wariness.

"I will," she smiled, slipping her hand into his for a brief moment, giving it a simple, yet reassuring squeeze.

 _Damnit_ , he thought, eyeing her pouted lips, _I should've kissed her when I had the chance._

Sirius stepped forward then and gently took hold of her elbow and declared, "Excellent! We'll be off then! Let us know if you need anything…or not. I know Remus is quite good at handling everything all on his own!" Sirius called out as he bustled his new, reluctant partner out the door and down the staircase, a strange, sinking feeling filling Hermione's stomach as she left an angry werewolf and a suddenly melancholy professor in her wake.


End file.
